Watchers & Dancers
by ArmarielRoZita
Summary: A modern-day take on Louisa May Alcott's beloved classic Little Women, that dares to ask the question: What would the March sisters have been like if they were living in the present time? Now complete! (Final chapter has been somewhat revised and appended with an author's note)
1. Sleeves & Snowflakes

**Watchers & Dancers**

by RoZita B.

_Of two sisters, one is always the watcher, one the dancer._ Louise Glück

1. Sleeves and Snowflakes

A passing stranger might have thought a riot was taking place at the high school. Shouts rang out, lockers banged, engines revved, doors slammed, feet stomped, books fell, shrieks of laughter, insults, whoops and hollers issuing into the cold winter afternoon light, until it seemed the snow would be shaken from the treetops in a minor avalanche.

And some of the racket was even coming from the students.

"Halle-frickin'-lujah, we're _free_!" Jodie March said as she and Lisa Fox put on their wraps. "So at what exotic locale will you be spending your Christmas holidays, girlfriend? Aruba, Jamaica, or..."

"Miami Beach," Lisa said as she bundled herself into her warm, expensive-looking furry coat, pulling up the hood over her silver-blonde hair, with just a glance at Jo's shabby plaid jacket which she was attempting to zip. "That's the first time I've seen you wear my grandma's cheerleader sweater to school," she remarked.

"Yeah well, I thought since it was the last day of school, I'd haul off and wear it," Jo said as she gave the zipper another good yank. The sweater was mustard yellow, with black and yellow striped sleeves, the word HORNET appliqued in big black letters with a fierce-looking gigantic insect of that designation below. The word was originally HORNETS, but the S had come off. Lisa had found the sweater among her grandmother's things after she died, and Jo had taken a fancy to it, although she was no cheerleader. "I think its feelings were getting hurt. So you're high-tailing it to Miami?"

"Yeah. What a bore, right? I guess you'll be Christmasing here with your family?"

"Yep. Great-aunt Martha's going to Myrtle Beach, so I won't be stuck with trying to keep her from sleepwalking on the stairs on weekends. For a moment I thought she was going to ask me to come with her, so I whisked my skinny butt out of there before she could get the words halfway out of her mouth. I'm happier than a witch in a broom factory now."

She tried not to sound too jealous and defiant. Lisa looked thoughtfully at her locker a moment, then at Jo, and her eyes were wistful, much to her friend's surprise.

"Jojo...please don't let this get around," she said almost in a whisper, "but..." here she glanced about to make sure no one was listening. All the other students were slamming lockers, jabbering like a flock of geese, yet Lisa dropped her voice. "I envy you. Yes, really. I wish I had sisters like you do, and that my parents were still together, and that we could spend the holidays here. I hate those stupid resorts. I'd change places with you in a heartbeat, I really would. You won't tell anybody?"

Jo stared at her dumbfounded, her zipper still halfway up. She and Lisa had been friends when they were little. They had grown apart, Lisa favoring the jet-set crowd she now ran with, or so it seemed, while Jo was consigned to the fringes of the less well to do. She did have some standing among her classmates, being on the girls' basketball team and the softball team, and she wrote some clever pieces for the school paper. But she was definitely not one of the popular crowd, nor did she wish to be. Although she and Lisa were on good terms yet, she never supposed they would ever again be close as they had once been.

So naturally she was taken aback by Lisa's confession. Who knew?

"I'll take it to my grave," she said solemnly. "Nothing short of a plate of Hannah's double-fudge pecan brownies shall pry it from these cold, dead lips."

"Well, hope you have a merry Christmas," Lisa said regaining her composure with admirable swiftness, although she was not quite all bubbles and light as she was with the more popular students. "There's Britt and Chass waving at me. Sure you don't want to ride home with us?"

"I'll pass," Jo said. "I doubt you could squeeze me in anyway, unless you use me for a hood ornament. There's Meg now. Ride a dolphin for me."

Meghan, Jo's older sister, was talking with a couple of her friends when Jo came running up to her, back-pack jouncing behind her.

"Megs!" she called, sliding on the icy pavement just outside the gym where many excited students were awaiting the buses, talking, grumbling, laughing, shoving each other, swapping holiday plans. Then she lost her footing and landed on her behind, sliding several feet until she came neatly to a stop right before her sister, who looked down at her in exasperated embarrassment, although without surprise. Several students snickered, one boy shouting, "Way to go, Jojo!" Jo looked up with a cheeky grin.

"Think that's something, wait'll you see my triple axle," she said as she got herself to her feet. "Ow, I think I busted something. I smell a big fat lawsuit coming out of this."

"Jo," Meg said rolling her eyes as she extended a gloved hand to help her sister up, "_when_ are you going to learn not to run on the ice? Are you really hurt?"

"No, momma," Jo said as she settled her backpack back on her shoulder, "Gah, where did this mob come from? I didn't know there were so dang many people at this podunk school. Fall on your behonkus and they all come out of the woodwork."

"Well, come on, Jo," Meg said, "or we'll miss the bus. Here it comes now."

"Let's hoof it," Jo said as she walked with her sister to the stop where students were gleefully pummeling each other with snowballs, some less good-naturedly than others. "I hate that damn bus. It'll be like a prison riot on it. And walking will be good exercise, and we can go window shopping on Main Street."

"Watch your language," Meg said, and considered her sister's proposal. The word "exercise" did the trick, for Meg worried incessantly about her weight. And in truth, she didn't like the bus any more than Jo did. "Ok then. Maybe we'll get a ride with somebody along the way."

No stranger would have taken the girls for sisters at first glance. Meg, at sixteen, had long soft brown hair and a fair oval face devoid of makeup. Her white coat was cheap, but she wore it so well it looked expensive. She was not really fat, only curvy, but she often supposed people were seeing masses of blubber when they looked at her. What they actually saw was a lovely young girl with soulful blue eyes and a spirituality rare to find any more.

Jo, though a year younger, was two inches taller, all sharp angles and arms and legs. Under rather thick eyebrows her eyes were grey with flecks of hazel, and they seemed to see everything-that is, as she was wont to say, when her nose didn't get in the way. She had a tiny gap between her two front teeth and a pointed chin, and long thick chestnut hair she was always threatening to cut, worn in a braid that poked through a hole in the polka-dotted knit cap she wore. When she thought of it at all, she supposed people saw a klutzy tomboy with a huge nose, goofy clothing and a terminal bad hair day. Yet some also saw a youngster with high spirits and irrepressible good humor, who was rarely dull to have around.

"Wonder if Beth and Hannah are baking cookies," Jo said referring to their younger sister and their mother's friend, who cleaned house for them once a week and home-schooled Beth. "I hope so. Been thinking about 'em for over an hour now."

"I don't know," Meg said. "You know how tight money's been this year. Guess I should look on the bright side-at least I won't gain so much weight over the holidays."

"And I'll have a chance to work on my novel," Jo said. "I still can't make up my mind whether to have Lady Elianna turn into a vampire, or retain her maidenly purity and redeem Sir Emirion from his evil ways. Which reminds me, I fixed the Christmas play. I took out those lame lines and put in some new ones for you."

"I am so not doing this next year," Meg said. "Remember when Dad used to tape our Christmas programs and show them to our relatives? I'd just _die_ if...anyone taped us this year. It might even end up on Youtube, and then I'd never be able to hold my head up again. And don't you _dare_ get any big ideas from that!"

"It _is_ kinda embarrassing," Jo said softly. "But you know what, I wouldn't mind it...if only Dad was here this year. Won't seem like the same without him. Just wish I could see him-glasses, big nose, corny jokes and all."

"I wish he hadn't gone to Afghanistan," Meg said. "I don't see what good he could do there anyway, at his age. Even as a chaplain."

"I wish there wasn't any reason for him to go," Jo said. "Maybe Mom will rent a vidcam and record the play, and send it to him. I wouldn't mind as long as he's the only one who sees it...Well, whup me with a greenstick, look who's coming. Eddy Moffat, as I live and breathe. Joy to the world."

A gleaming silver Porsche pulled up and slowed, the window on the driver's side descended, the heavy metal music that was playing inside it at a migraine-inducing level suddenly subsided, and a blondish handsome head poked itself out, saying, "Hey there baby doll, want a ride?"

Meg looked uncertainly at him, then at her sister. "Jo," she said, "do you want to-"

"I meant _you_, angel," Ed said letting the ashes of his cigarette fly out the window. "I'm afraid I don't have room for your friend. Unless we put her in the trunk. Or let her run on behind."

"She's my sister, as you well know," Meg said with dignity. Jo's scowl ironed itself into a grin. "And if she doesn't ride, then I don't."

Without a word, Ed sped off, tires screeching, nearly running into a couple of little girls crossing the street. He swore at them and then drove away at a slightly more reasonable speed.

"And they say _I_ have a temper," Jo remarked. "I'm guessing he's pissed that you don't appreciate the fact that he likes you despite your _looowly_ status on the social register. You ungrateful wretch, you."

Meg's cheeks were slightly flushed, and not from the cold. Jo looked sharply at her.

"Please tell me you don't like him too?" she said. "Pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top?"

"Well," Meg hedged, "no. He _is_ a jerk. But still, it's not like I've got guys falling all over themselves to date me, and he's, well..."

"Filthy rich," Jo said rolling her eyes. "Well, Christopher Columbus, that just hides a multitude of sins, what? You wouldn't give that dirtbag the time of day if he was as poor as us, would ya?"

"Jo, I don't like him any better than you do, even though I was friends with his sisters back before Dad lost all our money. He was a spoiled brat even then. Still, it doesn't hurt to have friends in high places. If you don't have good connections, you won't ever rise out of the hole where you are."

"Where did you hear that one? Home ec class? No wonder I didn't take it."

"It's just a fact of life, Jo. It's..."

"Not what you know, it's who you know," Jo finished for her. "Actually, it's not _who_ you know, it's what you've got on 'em."

She had read that somewhere. Meg just shrugged.

"Speaking of guys," she said brightening a little, "have you seen the new boy yet?"

"New boy?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Jo March. You know perfectly well who I'm talking about."

"Oh, the one that moved in across the street from us?"

"I heard he was cute. And about your age." Meg looked sidelong at her sister with a little smile.

"He's not bad, if you like dark, brooding, angsty types in preppie attire," Jo admitted. "I got a peek at him."

"And you didn't tell me? When _was _this momentous occasion?" Meg stopped and looked straight at her sister.

"Just the other day. You and Beth were at choir practice, Mom was at work, Hannah was baking bread, and Amy was plastered all over the TV set. I was bored and feeling nosy, so I decided to take the mail out of their box and tell them it got put in ours by mistake. I-"

"Jo, you _didn't_! Then again, maybe you did. It sounds like something you'd do."

"Well, I thought of borrowing a cup of sugar, but didn't think I could pull it off. Their name is Laurence, by the way. With a u. I saw it on the envelopes. Some woman answered the door-their housekeeper, obviously. I was expecting a butler with a monocle and an evil gleam in his eye. She looked at me like she knew I was using the mail thingy as a pretext, but she said she'd take it, and that's when I saw him peeking out of a door at me. And then I heard a man's voice yell, 'Theodore!' and you could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. The last thing he looked like was a _Theodore_. But he turned and said, 'Coming, Granddad,' with a bit of a sigh, and disappeared into the room. But not before I got a gander at the books and the piano in there."

"Oh, wow," Meg said, "and you're just now telling me all this."

"Well," Jo said, "good ol' Uncle Charles was there last night, and you know how he likes to tease us about boys and all, so I thought I'd save it for later. And then I got sidetracked. But wow, you should have seen the house inside. Sure it's big, and it's got those stone lions out front that you used to be scared of, but-"

"I wasn't scared of them. Beth and Amy were. A certain someone used to tell them they were enchanted by an evil sorceress and were known to come to life at certain times of the year and bite people's legs off." Meg looked sidelong at her sister.

"Yeah, well. I always thought they were cool. The place is almost as gloomy-doomy as it looks on the outside...so I wasn't too disappointed. There were a couple of swords crossed over the mantelpiece-the gas-log fire below kinda spoiled the effect, but not too much. And a portrait of some old geezer over the sofa, and a pretty neat antique chandelier, that I would have loved to swing on, except the old guy kept giving me dirty looks, like he knew what I was thinking. I guess they keep the suit of armor with the uplifted battle-axe elsewhere. I'd give a pretty to see that library. Maybe that's where they keep the armor."

"Bookworm," Meg said grinning. "So...did you speak to him?"

"No, unfortunately," Jo admitted. "He smiled at me a little. I guess he had a cold-he was sniffling a bit, and then I heard him sneeze. Maybe you could go over there and...comfort him or something." She winked.

"Oh, he's too young for me," Meg said with a wave of her hand. "He isn't even old enough to _drive _yet. But," her eyes twinkled also, "maybe he'll be the one. The one who'll tame you, bring out your feminine side."

"Yeah, right," Jo scoffed, "me with my eagle beak and my ninety-pounds-soaking-wet frame and my frog-flipper feet and my uni-brow. Put me in a pair of silver long johns and paint my nose red, white and blue, and I could pass for a flagpole."

Meg giggled. "Jo, you're such a nut. And you're not that bad, you know. You have very nice eyes and beautiful hair. If you'd do something about those eyebrows, and fix your hair pretty instead of putting it in that dumb braid, and your _clothes_-"

"Oh please. Olive Oyl has a better figure. Besides, when all those jet-set divas get a look-see at him, they'll be on him like ugly all over an ape. Even you wouldn't stand a chance."

Meg's pretty face fell. "I know what you mean...Well, here's Main Street. Sure you want to walk this way?"

"Sure, why not? We can look at all the stuff we won't be getting for Christmas. We'll be lucky to get a pair of warm socks this year. Being poor massively sucks. But hey, a gal can dream, right?"

Main Street was bedizened with lights, bells, snowflakes, Santa Clauses, reindeer, everything Christmas, yet there were few people about. The atmosphere was rather like that of a party few cared to attend.

"Wow," Jo said, "this town looks so totally Norman Rockwell, and yet nobody's even looking at it."

"They're all at the mall," Meg said.

"Yup. Well, better them than us. I hate holiday crowds. Too bad those politically correct idiots wouldn't let the Salvation Army people out front this year. I miss seeing them at the five-and-dime, as Hannah calls it."

"Well, they wouldn't get much here anyway," Meg said as they paused before a dress shop window featuring holiday gowns. The voice of Patti Page singing "Silver Bells" could be heard over the small loudspeaker above the shop door, sounding strangely small and forlorn. "What would you buy for yourself if you had enough money?"

"Nothing here. I'd look ridiculous in any of that stuff. There's what I'd buy." Jo nodded toward the sporting goods store next to the boutique, indicating a pair of skis.

"But you don't ski," Meg pointed out.

"If I was wealthy enough for those puppies, I could afford ski lessons. What would _you_ get?"

"Goodness," sighed Meg, "where to begin? I think I'd start with that." She indicated a royal blue velvet evening gown with glittery rhinestones and faux pearls all over the yoke. "Of course, I'd have to lose about twenty pounds to fit into it."

"Hoss crap," Jo said inelegantly. "You'd look classic in it, and you know it. Now look at that music store across the street. Which of those pianos would Bethy pick? That gleaming Steinway concert grand?"

"Of course not. I think she'd take that gorgeous little white baby grand next to it."

"Really? I think she'd go for the cute little upright with the mahogany finish and the curlicued rack and that round velvet-covered stool. Looks just like her. Wish I could buy it for her myself. That old thing we've got is beyond tuning."

"Yeah," Meg sighed as they ambled along. "Too bad she had to quit school on account of those stupid kids always teasing her about her shyness. And she's such a little sweetheart, too."

"Yep," Jo said. "Look, there's what Amy would buy." Amy was their youngest sister, who was only eleven, but artistically talented.

They paused before an art supply store, where a magnificent easel stood in the display window, a huge canvas showing a winter scene resting on it, and a box of oil paints and brushes on the seat. Amy was now having to make do with a kitchen chair for an easel.

"Well, let's go," Meg said at last. "No use wishing for what we can't have. I can see why people get depressed this time of year."

"_I _don't intend to get depressed," Jo said defiantly. "Aunt Martha gave me a fifty-dollar Christmas bonus-well, you know that already. We should each buy something we want, and treat ourselves. What the heck, we've put up with enough crap this year, I should say. Let's do it, Megs!"

Meg brightened. "What will you get?"

"Well...at Barnes & Noble there's this three-volume hardback edition of _Lord of the Rings_ that I've been drooling over for two months. What about you?"

"I'll get a party dress at the consignment shop-and you should too. Anne and Bella Moffat invited us to their New Years' party, you know. And you already have _Lord of the Rings_."

"Only in paperback, and a lot of pages are missing. So Ed's sisters are still speaking to you? They must have heard about the new guy. I bet Sally Gardiner is on about him."

"Don't be so cynical, Jo. Sally's still my friend, and generous when she wants to be. And a party is a party. When was the last time we went to one, other than those church things and the Halloween party?"

"Ah yes, the Halloween party. Where you were the fairy princess and I was the badass mobster chick. Big whoop. I still say it should have been the other way around-that would have been REALLY scary. Well, I don't suppose I can go mobster chick to this one, so I can wear my old dress. It still fits, I'm sure, and it's not like I've worn it to rags or anything. And you can wear your white one that Aunt Carol gave you."

"You're kidding, right? It has _sleeves_!"

"Say it ain't so!" Jo struck an attitude of abject horror. "_Sleeves? _ You'll be _ruined_. Me too, come to think of it. Mine has sleeves too. We'll both be ruined."

"Besides, I've had it since last year. And don't think they won't remember it. I probably can't get into it now anyway."

"Oh, poop. You could wear a vacuum cleaner bag and still look better than all those phony snobs put together. Buy yourself a pretty necklace or some cute shoes to go with it, and you'll do fine."

Meg gave an exasperated sigh. "Jo March, you've got about as much fashion sense as Aunt Carol. I still can't believe you wore that awful sweater to school."

"Hey, it suits me. Goes with my temper and all. Jo the Hornet. Too bad it's not green, I could be a superhero or something." Jo made some ninja moves. Meg tried to frown, then giggled in spite of herself.

"But really Jo, I think you need to tone it down some," she said a moment later, sobering. "That whole tomboy thing wasn't so bad when you were a kid, but now...well, the others are starting to say nasty things."

"What things?"

"You know what things." Meg lowered her voice. Jo flushed a little.

"They wouldn't say 'em to my face, I betcha," she said darkly.

"Well, they get back to me. I'm not saying you should wear lace and jewelry and high heels or anything like that. I don't ask the _impossible_. But you could polish up a _little_. We do need to preserve the family dignity."

"Dignity, shmignity," Jo muttered. "So people are talking about _us_? Again? Wow, talk about being hard up for interest. Maybe we'll end up with our own reality show. _The March Sisters and Their Sleeves_."

"It's not funny, Jo. Just yesterday a couple of boys yelled at me, 'Hey Meg, how's your brother?' Now what was I supposed to say?"

"How about, 'Oh, he's as mean and ornery and butt-kicking as ever, thank you, I'll tell him you asked about him'. So what _did _you say?"

"Nothing. I just acted like I didn't hear them. But I was mortified _to death_."

"I don't see why you give a rat's patootie what those morons think. You should have told 'em to stick it where the sun don't shine and then climb up after it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not in my age bracket...yet."

"If that's what it's like, I hope I never get there. Wow, to think this is the last year I get to be human."

"Seriously, Jo. I'm not asking you to be all girly-girl. I'm just saying...tone it down. Stop picking fights, stop swearing, stop-"

"I don't pick fights-fights pick me. And I only swear when...well, when I feel like it."

"Remember that fight with Darcy Evans? You almost got _expelled_. You were lucky just to get suspended for three days."

"She had it coming. She said Amy was a prima donna and Bethy was a druggie, remember? And that you were a goody two shoes, and I think you can guess what she said about me. But the topper was those bright remarks about how Dad gambled away the family fortune and all, before coming to Jesus and going into the ministry. I let her have it, and I'd do it again if she was dumb enough to besmirch our family honor a second time."

"You almost put her in the hospital, you know. You should have just walked away with your head held high...like I do."

"I'm not like you, Meggles. I'd rather kick somebody's ass into the next county and suffer the consequences, than just take their crap lying down. Maybe Amy _is_ a prima donna, but I won't stand for anyone outside the family saying it."

"You know what Mom said. You shouldn't lower yourself to their level."

"Ha! I'd need a submarine for that."

"And shooting craps in the boys' room. Real classy, Jo."

"Hey, I won ten dollars, didn't I?"

"How does that look for a minister's daughter? Even if he used to gamble himself? And then there was that _tattoo_. I still can't believe that, even of you."

"I told you, I did it on a dare. Besides, nobody can see it...except in the shower. I just wish they'd done a better job of it. It's supposed to be a hornet, but it looks more like a horsefly. And Mace Hardwick had to get a butterfly on his, since he lost the dare. Only I suspect his was fake, the cheater."

Meg had to laugh in spite of herself. "Ok, I give up. You know Jo, I wouldn't say this to just anybody...but sometimes I wish I was more like you. You're daring and feisty and funny and clever, everything I'm not. I'm just a blah. I hope you don't change _too _much. I just-."

"You wish you were like _me_? Really? Lisa said the same thing a while ago, more or less. She said-Oops!" And Jo clapped both hands over her mouth, remembering she had promised not to tell.

"She said 'Oops'?" Meg said with a giggle.

"Well...please don't ever tell her I told you this, 'cause I promised I wouldn't. But she said she envied me. 'Cause I had sisters and my parents were still together and we were all dripping with nice cozy family values, and all that happy hoss crap. It knocked me on my butt. Know what I mean?"

"Yes, exactly," Meg said. "Well...I guess I should stop whining and complaining about my hard lot in life. Because I wouldn't want to be in Lisa's shoes, either."

"Yep. And you know, sometimes when _I _get to feeling sorry for myself, I think: 'Well Jo, look at it this way: you could have been Darcy Evans.' I've heard her parents hate each other and I can well believe it, and they probably hate her too, and that evil brother of hers. I'm sure _I'd_ hate her, if I was them... Oh wait, I did not just say that. That was _so_ not in the Christmas spirit. Bad Jo. Bad." She slapped her own cheeks rather hard. "Ouch!"

Meg laughed uproariously, a lovely sound, and not often provoked.

"And you're not a blah," Jo said. "You're gorgeous and ethereal and talented and good, and everybody falls in love with you. Sleeves or no sleeves. Everybody with any sense, at least. Even I'm in love with you sometimes."

They had reached the bridge that arched high over the railroad tracks. Mountains gleamed white and silvery in the distance, rising from dark evergreens and a grey haze of naked deciduous trees below, dove-colored clouds above. The snow lay over the town, slushy and thin in places, but still piled deep on roofs and hedges.

"I've lived here all my life," Jo said, "and yet I never get tired of this view. It's awesome and inspiring. Now, stop me before I break into a chorus of 'Climb Every Mountain', or something."

"I can see the Laurence house from here," Meg observed with twinkling eyes. "And I think I see Theodore in the front yard."

"Hey, it's snowing," Jo said reaching out to catch a fuzzy flake, artfully dodging the subject of Theodore. "We'll have a white Christmas after all. Stop me before I break into a chorus of 'Here Comes Suzy Snowflake'."

"This is _New England_, Daffy-doodle," Meg laughed, her childhood name for Jo slipping out. "I can't remember a Christmas that _wasn't_ white."

"Maybe we can scare up a snowball fight," Jo said. "I can see the place where we used to have our tree house, before it fell apart. Remember what good times we used to have up there? Dang, now I sound like some old biddy reminiscing about the good ole days. Stop me before I break into a chorus of..." She puckered her brow and looked at her sister.

"'Those Were the Days'," Meg said. Both girls cracked up laughing.

"Well well, check out those pretty blue flashing lights over yonder," Jo said when she could get her breath, "and methinks I spy a lovely silver Porsche right in front of them. Look familiar?"

"Remotely," Meg grinned, and the specters of poverty and adolescent angst were momentarily forgotten, as the sisters began walking home through the softly falling white flakes that were always peaceful and awe-inspiring no matter how many times one had seen them.


	2. The Best Ideas

2. The Best Ideas

"Looks like he's gone back in," Jo said as they approached the Laurence house. It was the largest house on the street, made of stone with tall columns out front, set well back from the sidewalk. Huge oaks stood about, and cedars dusted with snow, but the prospect of the house looked anything but inviting. Not a holiday decoration in sight-tacky or otherwise.

By contrast the March house, a very old wooden one in the classic New England style, had a snow family out front, even a snow dog with a collar made of holly, lots of foot tracks, and a bright red ribbon tied about the antique lamp-pole in the yard, wrapped in red and white candy stripes. One of the trees had a tire swing on it, and there was a swing on the porch as well, which had colored lights hung over it. And a big pile of firewood on it next to the door.

"The Scrooges and the Cratchits," Jo remarked upon comparing the two houses. "Poor old Theodore. And I can smell those cookies already. Life is good."

Inside, the furniture was old but definitely comfortable looking, photos hung on every wall, and books and knick-knacks occupied every shelf in sight, and a wreath of real holly over the mantlepiece, beneath which a real wood fire burned. The sound of an old piano could be heard from the next room, softly playing a song from _Phantom of the Opera_. A fair-haired little girl in a Tinkerbell sweatshirt and light blue jeans sat cross-legged in front of the TV set, whose picture was not very clear. A backpack lay on a big armchair nearby, with AIMEE MARCH printed on it in Magic Marker, in ornate pink letters.

"Looks like somebody had a blonde moment," Jo noted. "Forgot how to spell her own name."

"I spell it my way," Amy said defensively. "Got a problem with that? Too bad."

"Don't sit so close to the TV, honey," Meg said. "You know what Mom said about that."

"I can't _see_ it if I don't sit close," Amy said as another girl appeared in the doorway. She looked younger than Amy although she was actually a year older. Her hair was in two braids, with a red yarn bow on one and a green one on the other. She wore an oversized old white sweater with a big green Christmas tree on front, that had colored balls embroidered all over it. She embraced both Jo and Meg.

"Geez, Bethy," Amy said, "I should think you're too old to go around hugging people. It's so _rambunctious_, just like that dumb sweater." She meant "ridiculous," but Beth didn't seem to hear her.

"Yo, Bethy," Jo said giving her a light spank and tweaking one of the brown pigtails. "Nice to see _one_ person who's in the spirit of Christmas, at least. And I can smell those cookies. Yummy. Are they done?"

"Almost," Beth said. "They're chocolate chip and pecan, everybody's favorite. I was afraid you'd get here before they were done."

"They do smell wonderful," Meg said, "but oh, I can feel myself gaining weight just thinking about them!"

A very plump middle-aged woman in a faded purple sweatsuit appeared in the doorway in Beth's place. "Well, everybody's home but your mother now, looks like," she said. "So school's out for you two now?"

"Yup," Jo said collapsing on the couch, backpack and all, kicking off her shoes and waving her feet by the fire. "Thanks in advance for the cookies, Hannah. Woah, that feels great!" she said as the fire warmed her tingling toes. "I haven't felt this good since five minutes ago."

"Phew," Amy said waving her hand daintily in front of her nose, "have mercy, Jo. At least put your house slippers on. The whole neighborhood doesn't need to smell your feet."

"I think Mimi ate 'em," Jo said as a ginger cat hopped up onto her stomach and started making biscuits on Jo's sweater, purring. Jo stroked her neck. "Cough up my slippers, varmit. Awww, at least I'm not the only one who likes my hornet."

"I guess we're not having a tree this year?" Meg said a little sadly as she moved Amy's backpack out of the big chair so she could sit in it.

"The things cost too darn much any more," Hannah said. "Amy, scoot back from the set a little, hon."

"What's the use of having a _tree_," Amy said crossly, moving back a full half inch, "when we're not even having _presents_, or anything to speak of. I don't think that's fair."

"Oh, we're sure to get something at the Christmas party this weekend," Beth assured her.

"Nothing good," Amy sniffed. "Probably just some stupid gloves, or a tiny New Testament that you can't hardly even _read_, or something. And if you say 'God bless us every one' at the table again this year, Beth March, I'll throw up."

"Who piddled on your pancakes this mornin', Goldilocks?" Jo said with her eyes closed. "Whine, whine, whine, whine. I should think you'd be glad school is out."

"I _am_ glad," Amy said with another sniff. "I don't ever want to see those hateful kids ever again."

"But you're well liked by them," Meg said.

"Not ALL," Amy said. "Jennifer Snowden called me a drama queen today."

"Boo hoo," Jo said. She reached for the box of Kleenex on the side table to throw to Amy, but gave up the attempt so as not to disturb the cat sitting on Jo's stomach in her regal and exquisite imperturbability.

"She's just jealous because you're prettier than she is," Meg said, "and you can draw better."

"And Daddy's not here," Amy pouted. She was much her daddy's girl. "What's there to be glad about?"

"We can be glad he's not killed," Beth said, her voice quivering a little. She sat on the floor beside Jo and petted Mimi.

"Yet," Meg said very softly.

"Tell you what," Jo said sitting up and handing the cat over to Beth, "let's go out to the woods and cut our own tree. Just like in the olden days."

"Can't do that," Hannah said. "They got regulations about that, thanks to the tree huggers and all that crowd. Gettin' so you gotta ask the government's permission to go to the toilet any more."

"We could go out at night," Jo said. "Nobody would notice then. It would be fun."

"Eek, the woods late at _night_?" Amy squeaked. "No _way_. Mom would have a connection fit, anyway."

"_Conniption_ fit," Meg corrected her. "But you're right. No telling what kind of creeps might be running around at night."

"Dang, nobody has any spirit of adventure but me," Jo sighed. "Ok, got another idea. Let's go by the elementary schools. They've probably thrown their trees out by now. We could snag us one...with cute little paper chains on it, even."

"Oh, please, no," Meg protested. "Somebody might see us, and we'd never hear the end of it."

"We could wear ski masks."

"Then they'd think we were burglars. It's out of the question, Jo."

"I hate paper chains," Amy muttered.

"Let's just hang Bethy's sweater in the window then," Jo said with a sigh. "She won't mind, would you, Mousie?"

Beth laughed a little, but it didn't come off well. Amy was clearly on the verge of tears.

"I'll bring mine over," Hannah said. "It's a little fake tree and it's seen better days, but it's better than nothin'. And I'll be spending most of Christmas here anyway. My son sure isn't likely to show himself this year. He hasn't in six years, why start now?"

"Oh Hannah, you mustn't," Beth pleaded. "You need your own tree to go home to in the night."

"_I_ tell you what," Meg said. "I've got my baby-sitting money, and Jo made a little extra at her job this year. And the little girls have their allowances. Why don't we pool our money and go buy a nice tree? We could go now, and surprise Mom when she gets off work."

"I was going to get her a Christmas present with mine," Beth sighed. "Not sure what yet. Maybe a new bra. Her old ones are so ragged looking," she explained when everyone turned to stare at her. "I help Hannah with the laundry, you know. I notice everybody's things, even underwear."

"We can still get her something," Meg said. "We could make things. She'd like that better anyway...only I'm not much good at making things. But-"

"That's _it_!" Jo yelled sending her chair clattering to the floor as she jumped to her feet. "We can write her a song. I could write the words, Bethy could do the music, Amy could decorate the page, and Meg can sing it. Mom 'd LOVE it!"

"Great idea!" Hannah said. "I was gonna suggest that very thing myself."

"Sure you were, you good ole Hannah," Beth said hugging her with one arm. "I'm not very good at writing music, but I'll try hard. Maybe Meg can help me."

"You can make music, Bethy," Jo assured her, and Meg nodded in agreement. "I've heard you. You really ought to write some of your stuff down."

"My cookies!" Hannah exclaimed a moment later. "They're about to burn!" And she whisked away into the kitchen.

"So how are we going to do all this in such a short time?" Meg said. "Christmas is just a week away."

"We work fast," Jo said. Beth giggled. "I've known you to learn a song in the course of a day. Speaking of which, I revised our play. I made copies on the school computer. There are just a few changes. I'll let you all look at 'em, then go invoke my poetry muse. Or do you want to go Christmas tree-ing now? Maybe I'll get inspired when I see it all be-decked in our front-most window. Or while I'm eating Hannah's cookies. Yep, first things first."

Spirits rose as Hannah brought a plateful of cookies into the dining room and set it on the table, saying they didn't _quite _get burned. Meg lit some candles to make things more festive, Beth played "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" while Jo sang a wicked parody of it that she had found online and Amy fed Beth cookies between verses and tried to play a descant. Then they took the copies of the play and looked them over while Hannah warmed up some cider.

"It's so cool that I get to be the princess," Amy said, and Meg said, "And Jo the villain. What a surprise!" Beth said, "I'm glad I don't have many lines. I get stage fright even when it's just us, silly old me," and Jo said, "I recorded some spooky sound effects from the school 'puter with my trusty antique mini-recorder. I guess this play is more Halloweeny than Christmasy, but we can throw in some stuff that's apropos for the season, like have Amy wear Mom's old corsage from last year in her hair. It might be cheesy, but Mom won't mind."

"I just hope Uncle Charles and Aunt Carol aren't coming," Meg said. "It's embarrassing enough as it is. I won't mind if Mrs. Mathers comes again, she's such a sweet old lady, but that's it."

Mrs. Mathers was their next-door neighbor, a retired high school teacher. The girls thought of her as the grandmother they didn't have.

"I don't get it, Megs," Jo said. "You're in the school play, and you've been in the Arts Foundation musicals, where everybody and their Aunt Bertha could see you, but you're embarrassed to do plays in the bosom of your own family."

"Well...it's different," Meg said stiffly. "It's so..._amateurish_ when we do it."

"What are we going to use for the dungeon?" Amy said.

"We'll take that old packing crate in the garage and put a sign that says 'Ye Olde Dungeon' on it," Jo said. "We'll hang that big old black spider from Halloween in it, and some old bones and stuff. Everybody will shiver in their boots."

"This play is _amazing_," Beth said shaking her head a little. "I wish I could think of awesome things like this."

"I guess if I'm going to be the hero," Meg said, "I'd better get something to tie around my chest to flatten it. I'm getting too big to play men's parts. In more ways than one."

"Back in the old days, boys used to play women's parts," Jo said. "A boy played Juliet, and Lady Macbeth and Cleopatra."

"I know," Meg said. "I'm glad things are different now. I can't imagine living back in the Dark Ages, can you?"

"If you're going to be an actress, you need to _try_ to imagine it," Jo said. "You'll have to learn to think like the characters you'll be playing. Which I have to do as a writer, too. It's fun, really. Makes life a whole lot more interesting."

"Boys playing _girls_?" Amy said making a face. "Yuck!"

"An actress, a writer, and an artist all in one family," Beth said wide-eyed. "I'm in _awe_."

"A musician too," Jo reminded her smiling.

"Oh, I'm not that good. Even if I was, I'm too big of a scaredy-cat to perform in public. I'll always be just...me. Watching everybody else."

"Not a thing in the world wrong with that, pussycat," Hannah smiled, brushing her fingers against Beth's round cheek. "Be nice to have at least one family member who'll stick around while everybody else is gadding around gettin' all rich and famous. How's the book coming, Jo?"

"I've hit a snag," Jo sighed. "But maybe I'll get unblocked soon, after Christmas. It's not truly the season for a wanna-be gothic novelist. I'm more a Halloween type of person. If Mom would let me, I'd probably go goth."

"Goth is gross," Amy shuddered. "I wouldn't be seen dead with you."

Laughter all around.

"Bethy is the Christmasy one," Jo said with a glance at the tree sweater. "She's got it written all over her. And Meg...she's a cross between Easter and Thanksgiving. Your proverbial wholesome New England girl, and the maiden of the lilies too. Pure and austere and set apart from the sordid uses of this world."

This drew a snicker from Amy and a delighted smile from Beth. Meg blushed a little.

"Oh, right," she said with a little roll of her eyes. Truth to tell, she was really just a bit tired of being the fairy princess.

"What about me?" Amy said bouncing a little in her chair. "What holiday am I?"

"Mardi Gras," Jo said without hesitation. Everyone laughed except Amy, who stuck out her tongue.

"And Hannah?" Beth said.

"Fourth of July," Jo replied with a wink. "'Cause there's sure to be fireworks if we make a mess in her kitchen."

More laughter. This was one of their games, in which someone would ask, "If so and so were a song/movie star/car/vegetable/book/cartoon, which would she be and why?" It was always good for a giggle or two.

They managed to find a fairly large spruce at Walmart, which they tied onto the top of Hannah's old Plymouth. When Beth tucked a dollar into the Salvation Army kettle, her sisters did likewise, even Amy, though reluctantly. Then Hannah surprised them all with gift cards, each with twenty dollars on it. Even Amy hugged her then.

After the tree was gotten home, it fell to Jo to get the light strings untangled, and Amy and Beth even made paper chains with old magazines and wrapping paper, while Meg carefully took down the boxes of fragile ornaments that had been in the family for three generations. After the tree was all decorated, everyone sat about and looked at it in the falling dusk, and were quiet for a spell, as was their custom also, as Hannah went to start supper. Beth had bought an angel doll with her gift card, which she set up on a small table next to the tree. Amy put a Christmas disc on the CD player, and Meg lit more candles. Mimi licked herself in the big chair the whole time.

Suddenly Jo jumped up and betook herself to the bathroom, staying there until Amy came hammering at the door, then Jo ambled up and down the hall with a note pad and pencil in her hand, humming softly. When Amy came out again, Jo went back into the living room saying, "Well, I've got something now. It's a little on the sappy side maybe, and not exactly the sort of thing I usually write, to say the least. But I figure Mom'll like it a lot better than something along the lines of 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.'"

And as she read aloud from the note pad, the room grew most quiet all of a sudden.

"Seems like all my best ideas come to me on the john," she said after she finished, grinning sheepishly at the dumbstruck faces of her sisters.


	3. The Unstolen Christmas

3. The Unstolen Christmas

Their mother came home late from her nursing job. She was exhausted, but delighted at the tree.

"We lost poor Mr. Adams," she sighed as her daughters helped her off with her coat and scarf and hat, and turned off the TV set. Her reddish-brown hair, cut just above shoulder length, was but lightly touched with grey, her face pretty and youthful at forty-two, her eyes cornflower blue like those of all her daughters but Jo. They had saved her some cookies, but she said she'd like supper first. "I feel so sorry for his family. They'll have a sad holiday this year. Hannah, that chicken smells so nice. Beth, don't let Mimi on the table, dear. Jo, you look unusually happy today. Where did these flowers come from? So pretty. Guess what I've got? It's a package from your father."

The girls chattered high-pitched with excitement as the package was opened. It contained six little wrapped boxes within. In four of them was a fragrant little silk purse with something inside. Meg's contained a necklace of polished onyx beads all colorful like agate. Jo got a bronze chain with a carved black ivory elephant pendant, Beth a silver bracelet with a white jade butterfly set in it, Amy a similar one with a green butterfly. Each girl got a silver ring with carved onyx stones also. And Hannah got a small bottle of exotic scent, which she later said made her feel like a sexpot. The girls alternately squealed, exclaimed, laughed and cried over the gifts, until they noticed their mother's: a big white lace, silk, and ivory fan painted with golden roses, with a little ivory holder for it. She set it up in the middle of the mantlepiece, beneath a framed photo of her husband, and stood looking at it with tears in her eyes for a moment, then at the tree, then at her daughters.

"Perfect," she said, and she was not referring to the tree or the fan.

The next few days were a pleasantly hectic blur, with Beth wailing that she could never do justice to Jo's wonderful, wonderful lyrics, especially not with that awful piano, Amy drawing one design after another, Meg alternately practicing her lines and helping Jo to make scenery for the play. Then Meg got the idea to go to the church and use the piano there, with permission from the minister. Since he was a dear friend of their father, surely he would consent.

Jo tried working on her novel, but found it hard to concentrate. She found herself thinking of the boy across the street. What was he like? Did he had any friends? She had never met the old man, only glimpsed him from time to time, heard his voice once. She supposed him to be some bitter old miser who never gave a penny to charity, tyrannized his servants, and had some dark secret. Maybe he had a wife he had murdered and buried below the cellar steps. Or a mad one he kept in the attic. Or a daughter who had refused to marry the man he wanted her to, so he had imprisoned her and fed her on bread and water... Or was he was a vampire who only came out at night...or some wicked scientist who carried out unspeakable experiments, or an evil genius with some fiendish invention that would enslave the world...or a wicked wizard with a book that could cause madness in anyone foolish enough to look into it...

Yet now he had a grandson living with him. She had to wonder why the boy was there now. Deep down she had known that her imaginings were just that, imaginings, and the truth was likely to be totally uninteresting. And so she had worked up the courage to finally go to the house. Now what?

It still bugged her that she didn't know why Theodore was living there. She had not seen him at school. Maybe he was only visiting. Maybe his parents had gone on a trip to Europe and had dumped him there. At any rate, she knew that once the girls at school got wind of him, she wouldn't have a prayer of getting to know him, so there was no use trying, only to have him snatched away by hordes of prettier girls, wealthier girls, worldlier girls, more feminine girls, girls with lower standards. Bimbos. Poor old Theodore indeed!

She turned back to her writing, which she was doing in a primitive spiral notebook, with an antiquated lead pencil so she could erase.

_Lady Elianna's face glowed in the moonlight, where she stood upon the bridge gazing down upon the clear stream that seemed to slow its flowing the better to drink in the entrancing vision of pure loveliness hovering over it like a beacon of peerless beauty, and to grow ever purer in the imbibing of it, while Sir Emirion, standing in the darkness of the tower concealed from her sight, sighed and smote himself upon the breast, thinking: Alas, I shall never be worthy of such as her; I have committed far too many evil deeds, my hands forever stained with innocent blood, I have too many dark unspeakable secrets, and I am unfit to touch the hem of her snowy garment. I would besmirch her purity forever, even though it is unbesmirchable..._

Hoss crap, she thought, rubbing mercilessly with her eraser. "Unbesmirchable"-was that even a word?

After a while she rose and went to the porch again, on the pretext of getting a breath of fresh cool air, but saw no sign of Theodore. Remembering his cold, she thought to take him some of Hannah's cookies. Maybe he was sicker than she thought...

But just as she had finally decided to go over, Meg and Beth burst into the door, saying they had finished the song. `

"Isn't it wonderful?" Meg said. "The guy who plays the organ, he was there practicing, and he heard us working on our song. And he came and helped us, you know with setting it down and all..."

"Mr. Brooke?" Jo said. "The one you've got a crush on?"

"I do not have a crush on him," Meg said, yet she pinked just the same. "He was sooo impressed at Bethy's talent, and he asked who taught her. I said she had lessons when she was little, then Mom taught her for a while, then when she had to go to work full time, Beth taught herself out of the books people gave her. He said that was _so_ amazing, then what do you think? He offered to give her free lessons!"

"Mom won't allow it," Jo said, although she hated to quench the glow emanating from Beth's face.

"I know, but maybe we can pitch in and pay for the lessons," Meg said. "Prepare to be amazed, Jojo. Mr. Brooke said he'd make us a disc, so we won't have to use that old piano... Where's Amy?"

"At Faith's, I guess. Let's hear it."

And they performed it for Jo, whose turn it was to listen in dumbfounded silence. The music was so exactly fitting to the text, it was little short of astounding. Candlelight seemed to rise from it as Meg's voice with its silvery, flutelike purity lifted each phrase into vibrant life.

"Oh. My. Gawd," was all Jo could find to say when it was over. "Why didn't you guys _tell_ me you were going to do that? I am stricken absolutely speechless. My vocal chords are frozen stiff. I simply do not know what to _say_..."

Beth ducked her head and turned scarlet, tears coming into her eyes. Meg smiled proudly, with an arm about her sister, and her eyes grew misty also, and so did Jo's. The boy across the street was completely forgotten. For the time being, at least.

True to their tradition, the sisters performed their play on Christmas Eve. The dining room served as stage, with the furniture moved into the kitchen, and the sofa and chairs moved before the wide arched doorway. Jo, as the villain Erronius, showed up with an enormous Salvador Dali mustache, her hair slicked back with Crisco, and a black opera cloak made from a trash bag, which kept clinging to her in all the wrong places. When her mustache fell off in the middle of a line, she calmly picked it up and stuck it back on, and went on, ad-libbing a good bit. It elicited plenty of laughs, especially from Mrs. Mathers, who was there with her widowed daughter, Mrs. Wells, from Boston. Uncle Charles and Aunt Carol also came, although this year their daughter Flo did not come, having to work late. There was also Beth's best friend Emily Prescott along with her parents and eight-year-old brother Mickey. Emily played the villain's dim-witted henchman, Ergo. When Jo said things like, "That goody-goody Prince Fidelio doesn't stand a ghost of a chance against my ingenious plot; ergo the fair Princess Estelwen shall be mine all mine!" or "The time is at hand, ergo I shall sally forth," Ergo would show up saying "You called, master?" until Erronius in fits of frustration beat him over the head with a stick made of tightly rolled newspaper, bellowing, "NO, you blithering idiot!" at which Mickey would screech with laughter, bouncing up and down like a rubber ball. Mr. Prescott rather predictably said Jo stole the show, while Mrs. Wells said Meg did excellently also-very princely and gallant, even if her long hair did fall out of her hat during the swordfight with Erronius...who took so long to expire when stabbed by Fidelio, that Mickey hollered out, "DIE already!" at which Jo said, "Ok," letting her head fall with a plop. It was a while before the laughter died down enough to finish up the play. The girls sang some carols afterward, and Emily had a flute solo, accompanied by Beth. It went over very well, although Mickey said the piano sucked, at which his mother threatened to play "Little Drummer Boy" on his behind if he didn't watch his mouth.

Then at last came the Song, which rendered everyone speechless...even Mickey and Uncle Charles. Mrs. March was not the only one who had to wipe away a few tears.

_Candles and star-beams and light strings_

_making each room blessed and bright_

_Stories and candy and snowflakes_

_And smiles on all faces in sight.._.

_Doves and poinsettias and roses_

_Angels and fairies and elves_

_Holly and pine wreaths and fir trees_

_Anthems and pageants and bells..._

_Turkey and dressing and chocolate _

_Carolers at your front door_

_Sweet dreams and heart-beams and memories_

_all these gifts I wish you and more._

_May your season be filled with glory_

_may your fears all be cast in the fire_

_may your children rise up and call you blessed_

_may God give you your heart's desire._

_May you prosper in all things this Christmas_

_know joy like a glowing bright star_

_from my heart all these gifts I do wish you_

_Wherever, whoever you are!_

Later, when all the other guests had gone home after refreshments and much talk and praise and a game or two, Mrs. Mathers told the sisters how privileged she was to know them.

"You four are the most delightful and talented girls I've ever known, and that's saying plenty," she said as she and Mrs. Wells were getting their wraps on. "And tonight you completely outdid yourselves. Why do you think it is I've refused to move in with Alice in Boston? Because I couldn't bear to be apart from my lovely girls, that's why. Meg, your voice is simply stellar. And you have that aura of purity and inner beauty that is all too rare to see nowadays. Don't ever lose it, my dear. Don't let the world pull you down to its level, although I realize how much easier said than done that is. Promise me that?"

Meg promised, much abashed at the praise.

"And Jo-promise me you won't ever change," the old lady said. "You have a marvelous gift for making people laugh and feel better inside. It is a wonderful thing to have. Don't let the world take that gift of joy and make a cynical old sourpuss out of you. I can't tell you how many times you've shaken me out of a bad temper and kept me from turning into a crabby old woman. The world needs all of that it can get. Promise me you won't change."

Jo promised, wondering if she were having hot flashes already.

"And Bethy...you're a very sweet and gifted little girl. It's all right to be a little shy-so many children are much too loud and obnoxious. But don't hesitate to look the world in the eye and say, 'This is who I am.' Will you promise me, dear?"

Beth said she would try, blinking back a tear or two.

"And Amy..." Amy glanced down and up fearfully as Mrs. Mathers turned to her. "You have a talent also, and you are a pretty girl and will get even prettier. Don't let it go to your head. You can be very charming and mannerly when you let yourself, and that's even more attractive than looks and talent. Will you promise me not to lose that special quality?"

Amy promised while Jo barely repressed a snicker. Mrs. Mathers smiled her satisfaction.

"Now don't be surprised if Santa Claus leaves something very nice tomorrow morning," she said. "Yes, Amy, I know you all don't believe in him any more. But I assure you, all your work has not been in vain."

And she gave them all a wink as her daughter helped her into her heavy coat, and they went on their way.

And the next morning, there was a brand new 50-inch flat-screen TV set in the living room, with a card from Mrs. Mathers saying that her daughter had bought it for her, but she wished them to have it instead, since her old one still worked perfectly well and she rarely watched it anyway.

"Oh, how _bewitching_," Amy said, fairly swooning before it.

"Oh. My. Gawd," Jo said as she tore the silver wrapping from the three-volume set of _Lord of the Rings _with trembling hands. "How did anybody know...Megs?"

Meg smiled innocently as she tried on the pair of stunning white party shoes, spangled with glitter and iridescent rhinestones, that came in her package, her first pair of heels, and a small evening bag to match.

Beth had a beautiful big porcelain doll, with red-gold curls and a pink and white lace gown, complete with frilly flowered hat and parasol, while Amy got a set of oil paints and brushes. Mrs. March was gifted with a magnificent parlor lamp with prisms, and Hannah with a new bread maker.

Later in the morning they watched _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ on their new TV, all four of them joining in when Boris Karloff sang "You're a Mean One, Mister Grinch," while the smell of roasting turkey permeated the house.

"Is the turkey almost done?" Jo yelled toward the kitchen after the movie ended. "My belly thinks my throat's cut!"

"It's done," Hannah said, "but your mother went out a while ago. She got a call from her friend Jessica, and you know what that means. Mrs. Benitez is having her baby...if she really is a 'missus'," she added a little under her breath.

"Oh, that Puerto Rican family, or are they Mexican," Meg said. "I didn't know it was due so soon."

"Why couldn't she have it _tomorrow_," Amy grumbled. "Christmas is a stupid time to have a baby. Now we'll have to wait forever for dinner."

"Christmas is a stupid time to have a _baby_?" Beth said, and Amy blushed a little.

"Well, yeah, when she's too poor to go to the hospital to deliver it," Jo said. "Geez Louise. You'd think if they were going to come into the country illegally, they could at least have the decency to know when to quit having babies."

"Babies is what keeps 'em here," Hannah said. "Well, she said to go ahead and start without her, if she doesn't get back in time. So come on and help me get dinner on the table, girls."

Just as they began to eat, the phone rang. Hannah picked it up.

"It's a boy," she said to the girls after a moment. "Yes?" she said back into the phone. "What do you mean, no food? Power turned off? Four other kids? Ok, I'll tell 'em."

"Well, if that isn't a kick in the head," she said after she hung up the phone. "Looks like she'll be there most of the day. Them poor little kids. Well...let's eat. Nothing more we can do about it."

"Where do they live?" Beth asked with sad eyes.

"Don't you dare get any big ideas," Amy told her with a peculiar grip on the butter knife.

Meg, after a moment's hesitation, stood up and reached for the turkey platter. "Come on Jo, help me with this," she said. Jo took the other end.

"I don't think I care for any turkey anyway," she said swallowing a little, "after all those fabulous sausage balls at breakfast. Those are the true taste of Christmas to me."

Beth suddenly jumped up and ran to her bedroom.

Amy blew her breath upwards, making her bangs jump. Then she rose and trudged to the bedroom after her sister.

Fifteen minutes later, Hannah's old sedan was rattling along the snowy road, Jo with the covered platter on her lap, Meg with the vegetable casseroles, Amy with the cake, and Beth with the big basket of rolls and jam, a bag of old but still very serviceable toys and candy at her feet...and the angel she had bought a week previous.

And a load of the firewood from the front porch piled in the trunk.

"Too bad we're not on camels," Jo said after a while, breaking up the silence and provoking a laugh.

"Ya know, I think this has been the best Christmas ever," she said much later that night, as they feasted on leftover roast beef sandwiches and chips and cookies and watched _Miracle on 24th Street_, the tree lights twinkling, Mimi fast asleep before the fire. "Except for one thing, of course."

She glanced toward the fan and the photo on the mantelpiece, from her usual place on the couch.

Her mother and sisters looked up at the fan also, then at each other, then down at the rings they wore, without a word.


	4. Getting Sparkly

4. Getting Sparkly

"Come on Jo, we need to start getting ready for the party."

"Christopher Columbus, Meg. We just ate _breakfast_."

"It's almost noon."

Jo glanced at her watch. "Well, son of a gun. So it is. My internal clock is running behind."

Meg sat down heavily on the couch where Jo sat poring over her manuscript. Then after a moment she said, "Notice anything different?"

Jo looked up from the notebook and squinted at her sister. "Nope. Am I supposed to?"

Meg leaned her head over at Jo. "You can't see my highlights?"

"Highlights?"

"In my _hair._ Sally put them in last night. They're not noticeable _at all_?"

"You let Sally highlight your hair? What did Mom say about that?"

"She hasn't said anything yet. I don't think she noticed either. You don't think she'll be mad, do you?"

"Well, it's not like you went out and dyed your hair pink, or anything like that," Jo admitted. "Yeah, I can see them now, kind of. Don't know why you thought you needed highlights though. Your hair was fine like it was."

"Oh, you sound like Mom."

Jo set the notebook down. "Meg, why do I get the feeling you're wanting me to get something done to my hair too?"

Meg sighed. "No Jo, you don't need highlights. But you could let us wash it for you, use that treatment in it to bring out the shine. Your hair would be so beautiful if you'd just _do_ something with it."

"I did _do _something with it. I washed it last night and creme-rinsed it. It looked plenty shiny to me. Why don't you go practice walking in those new shoes of yours."

"I've been doing that all week. At least let us do your eyebrows, Jo. They're so..."

"Thick? I like 'em that way. They give me a formidable look. Nobody will want to mess with me."

"I'm serious, Jo. I think you'd be real nice looking if you'd just take a little more trouble with yourself."

"So I should pluck 'em? Or wax 'em? That's ouchy. I'm a pain wimp, y'know."

"Oh, right. All week long you've been sledding and sliding about the ice, and nearly broke your head open the other day, and got who knows how many bumps and bruises, and now all of a sudden you're a pain wimp."

"I've also been stalking our neighbor. You know, the guy across the street."

"Theodore? You saw him again?"

"Unfortunately, no. I climbed the wall at the side of the house and peeked over, and all the windows were dark. I was thinking of inviting him to the party. He might well have given me a break from all the boredom."

"Well. At least let me do your nails. They look positively disastrous. What on _earth_ have you been doing to them?"

"I told you. Climbing walls. Stuff like that."

"Jo. You could have gotten arrested, you know."

"At least something exciting would have happened. All righty then, go ahead with the manicure. And whatever else. You've got your work cut out for you, that's for darn sure. But _no_ fake nails."

Hours later, Jo stood before the full-length bathroom mirror, in her party dress from last year, which still fit, as it turned out, although it was noticeably shorter. It was candy-apple red in color, with a velvety texture, a round neckline, and little slightly puffy sleeves trimmed with satin ribbon. She wore her low-heeled Sunday shoes, and the elephant pendant her father had sent her, although Meg insisted it didn't go with the dress. Her hair hung long and loose down her back, the front locks caught up with a claw clip. She had made an attempt at doing something with her eyebrows, and ended up taking a shaving razor to them, with rather unsettling results. But Amy had managed to fix them with a brown drawing pencil.

"Nobody will notice if they don't look too close," she said standing back to inspect her handiwork.

Jo had changed her mind about the fake nails when Amy came up with the idea of painting them, each one half black and half white, with a tiny scarlet curlicue. It looked so cool, and was so skillfully done, Jo quickly became resigned to wearing them, especially since her own nails were, as Meg said, utterly hopeless.

"Well, you cleaned up pretty darn good, at that," Hannah said with wide eyes. "Who'd a' thunk it?"

"You look stunning, Jo," Beth said. "I never knew you were so pretty."

"I'm not too bad, at that...for me," Jo agreed, passing a finger over one of the damaged eyebrows. "Oops...don't touch. Gotta remember."

"A lot less dorky than usual," Amy admitted. "If you had some makeup, and maybe a padded bra..."

"She doesn't need any of that," Mrs. March said. "Jo dear, you look simply lovely. That color suits you exactly, and your hair envelopes you like a shining veil."

Amy snickered and Beth beamed in delight, as only she could beam. Then Meg appeared in her white dress and new shoes, bag, and necklace. The sleeves were loose and filmy, floating about her upper arms, and the skirt seemed almost to flow when she moved. She seemed to glow in an aura of soft light, although it actually came from the hallway. Everyone gasped.

"You look just like an angel," Beth exclaimed, her hands clapped to her cheeks.

"You look like Liesl in _The Sound of Music_," Amy said softly. "Too bad we don't have a stairway, so you could drift slowly down the stairs like in the movies."

"I'm resigned to this dress," Meg said, "now that I've got these shoes."

"'Resigned' to it!" her mother laughed. "It looks like it was made just for you, Meggie. It fairly emanates from you. Poor Flo never wore it half so well."

"Nobody's gonna notice me once they get a load of that," Jo said with a hollow feeling in her stomach she recognized as envy. "I look like Ichabod Crane in drag."

"You do not," her mother said. "You both look ravishing, in totally different ways. Snow White and Rose Red."

"Yes, that's it exactly!" Beth agreed with a little excited dance step. "Somebody should take a picture."

"Just stand up a little straighter, Jo," Mrs. March said. "Don't hunch your shoulders in like that, honey. Hold them back and keep your chin up. There, that's better. You'll do fine, I assure you."

"Here, Jo," Meg said pulling out a tube of lipstick from her little bag. "Put a bit of this on."

"Huh uh. I don't do lipstick," Jo said backing off as if her sister were holding a spider. "Besides, it doesn't go with my nails."

"I saw a girl with black and white lipstick once," Amy said. "In a magazine."

"I'll kiss a zebra," Jo said.

"Just a little," Meg coaxed. "It won't poison you, I promise. It's not that dark or bright of a shade."

Finally Jo caved, saying, "Anything for a quiet life." Meg applied it to her sparingly, then told her to press her lips together. The others cheered as if it were some major accomplishment.

"Would somebody please explain to me again why I'm going to this party?" Jo said as they were getting their wraps. "I don't like the Moffats and I'm reasonably certain they're considerably less than enamored of me. So why am I going?"

"I don't see why you don't want to go," Amy said. "I'd _kill_ to go. Have you ever SEEN the inside of their house?"

"I know the people who live in it, that's plenty enough for me. They're just the Kardashians without the K's. Tell you what, Amy, why don't you wear my clothes and pretend you're me, and go in my place? I can stay home and play Apples and Oranges with Mom and Bethy and Hannah, or rent _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ or some such, and have pretzels and ginger ale. Sounds like a plan to me."

"Ya know, Jo, for an old person you sure act young sometimes," Amy said with a little pout. "You'd think you were _my_ age, or something."

"Let's swap ages then. You can be an old person, and I'll be a young one again. Suit us both, I'm sure."

"Besides, me and Beth are having a sleepover at Emily's tonight," Amy said.

"'Beth and I'," her mother corrected her.

"I'm glad I'm not going to the dance," Beth said with a shiver. "The very thought of it scares the living daylight out of me. All those rich people dancing around and stuff. I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"You _dance_, that's what you do," Amy said. "What do you _think_?"

"Are you sure this dress doesn't make my bottom look big?" Meg asked anxiously, turning around for the others' inspection after a hasty little last-minute primping.

"If you have to ask, then yes," Jo said rather snippily. Beth gasped a little. Amy giggled.

"It does not," Mrs. March said with a reproachful look at Jo. Meg peered over her shoulder at herself in the mirror.

"It's this stupid _sash_," she said. "I _knew _I should have cut it off! Maybe there's still time?"

"Don't pay any attention to me," Jo said with a flip of her manicured hand. "I'm merely jealous because you've at least _got _a bottom. Come on, Snow White, let's go and get it over with. Out with the old year, in with the new."

"Jo-what's that on the back of your _dress_?" Meg exclaimed. "There's a _streak_ on it. Don't tell me you sat in something already?"

"Oh, that," Jo said, plucking at her skirt to look at it. "Guess I forgot to mention I spilled some Clorox on it. Is it that showy?"

"It looks like pink lightning," Meg said. "Your one nice dress, and it's all _ruined_!"

"Oh well," Jo said, "at least it's only on the back. People aren't likely to stare at my fanny, seeing as how it's virtually nonexistent. I'll keep my back to the wall, and just watch. The original wallflower."

"Well, come on, let's go," Meg said. "And please promise me you won't do anything totally outrageous?"

"How outrageous can I be with my back to the wall? I promise not to play strip poker with the cabana boys, or spike the punch, or sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. My Scottish accent is atrocious anyway."

"And don't say 'Christopher Columbus'," Amy said. "Really, how lame is that?"

At last they were rolling along, Mrs. March driving this time, Meg having confided to her that if they had to go in Hannah's car, she would commit hare krishna, or whatever it was called.

"Maybe soon I'll be able to put a down payment on a Rolls-Royce," Mrs. March said by way of a joke, as they pulled up to the well-lighted gate with the sign MERRYWOOD ACRES before it.

"A gated community. Chris-" Jo stopped herself as Meg looked at her. "Hey, I can say it in the car, can't I?"

"Goodness, I can hear the music all the way from here," Mrs. March said. "Let me guess. It's the house with all the cars parked in front of it, right?"

"Wow, you're pretty good for a mother," Jo said with a wink. Mrs. March rolled down the window for the gatekeeper. Meg gave him the card with their names on it. Jo went, "Woah," under her breath, drawing another warning look from her sister.

"Did we do this kind of crap when we were rich?" she asked as they drove on through the gate. "I sure as heck don't remember it."

"We were never 'rich'," Mrs. March said. "We were well off, yes. But not even close to anything like this. And in my humble opinion, we're far richer now than the Moffats ever dreamed of being."

Jo was thankful that they were close enough to their destination not to get one of their mother's the-best-things-in-life-are-free speeches.

"I don't even see why the Moffats invited us," she said. "They don't even go to our _school_. They must be on some political correctness kick or something. I guess that whole my-ancestors-came-over-on-the-Mayflower thing is so fifteen minutes ago."

The house was a huge modern structure, with windows about eight feet tall and one foot wide in the front, a couple of abstract sculptures flanking the front door, and colored lights all over the yard. Techno music played at a deafening level inside. Sally Gardiner greeted the girls with warm hugs. She was a dimply little brunette who just verged on being a little too plump, with a grin that more than verged on being goofy. Her sequined green dress looked to have been applied with a nail gun loaded with emerald-headed thumbtacks...an observation that Jo saw fit to keep to herself, thought filing it away for future reference.

"You two look _amazing_," she said. Jo had privately told Meg that if they ever took "amazing" out of the English language, Sally would be rendered permanently speechless. "Wow Jo, you're wearing a _dress_. Meg, your new shoes are _so_ amazing. I'm so glad you both could make it tonight. Isn't the Moffats' house _amazing_?"

The Moffat girls, Anne and Bella, appeared just then, as if they had heard their names spoken, their brother Edward coming up close behind. Anne was sixteen. Bella two years older. Anne's insipidly pretty face was framed by a thick mane of honey-blonde curls, which she never let anyone forget. She was forever reaching up a languid, well-manicured finger to fondle a lock or two of it, as if it were a favorite pet or child, and she had a way of cocking her head to one side and looking up in a way she seemed to think wistful and appealing. Jo thought it just made her look slightly vacant. Other times she suspected there was more to Anne than met the eye.

Bella was similar in feature, but nature had played a nasty trick on her, and her hair was straight and brown. Actually, Jo knew her natural color only because she had known Bella since childhood. She seemed to change her hair color every season. Sally had remarked to the March girls that it was a wonder Bella still had hair at all. Tonight it was a vivid auburn, with a streak or two of bright gold. Her makeup was something to see, her lipstick sparkly reddish-purple with a metallic gold streak down the middle, her eyes darkly ringed Egyptian style, her lids painted in at least three colors, tiny stones pasted to her lashes as well. Anne's makeup was more conventional, but applied lavishly. She was in black velvet with flashing studs of gold and silver in a pattern reminiscent of the 1920s, while Bella wore flashing silver that reflected every colored Strobe light in the room.

She and Anne greeted the March girls with their usual air of cynical amusement, while Ed looked them over with appreciative eyes through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

"Well, if it isn't the sisters March," he said, "Classy and Sassy. Lookin' good, ladies."

"Well, if it isn't the brother Moffat," Jo said. "You're not so bad yourself...Assy."

The Moffat sisters laughed loudly. "Good one, Jo," Bella said. Eddy snorted. Sally giggled.

A maid took the girls' wraps to another room, while Anne eyed Meg's dress with an inscrutable expression. Then Mrs. Moffat, tricked out in a pile of murdered animals, appeared from the foot of the stairs.

"Darlings, I'm going to the Landons' party now," she told her daughters with a careful peck on each of their cheeks, then her son's, after greeting the newcomers effusively. "Please try not to burn down the house while I'm away, will you? You have my cell number, right? Ophelia is upstairs in her room if you should need anything. See you next year!"

The March sisters looked at each other with lifted eyebrows. They had assured their mother that Mrs. Moffat would be chaperoning the affair. Yet before they could say anything, she whisked out the front door. Her daughters looked vastly relieved, while Ed grinned in satisfaction and pulled a suspicious-looking flask out of his pocket.

"Now we can _really_ party," he said. "Who's gonna break out the champagne?"

"Careful, Eddy," Bella said with a smirk. "These are the minister's daughters, remember."

"The minister of what?" Eddy chuckled. Anne poked him with her elbow.

"Girls, come on up with me," she said to the March sisters and Sally. Eddy looked askance at her. "Let's go powder our noses. Up." She indicated the staircase.

"Don't I get to watch?" Eddy said with a little chuckle at his own wit.

"Not this time," Anne said. "We're going to surprise you."

"Don't mind him," Bella said. "He's been partying since six o'clock, and it's a quarter after seven now. We can only hope he'll pass out soon."

"What's up?" Jo said as the five girls mounted the curved staircase.

"You'll see," Anne said with a little secretive grin. "Just step this way, if you please."

"Who's Ophelia?" Meg asked.

"Our housekeeper," Bella said, and Anne and Sally laughed for some reason. Jo looked at Meg, but she looked just as mystified.

"Isn't this Claire's room?" Sally squeaked as the Moffats led them into a luxuriant white boudoir. Claire was the oldest of the Moffat sisters at twenty-two. It was rumored that she was engaged to some hot-shot lawyer in Boston, who was supposed to have gotten a man accused of a particularly brutal murder off the hook. And Claire, it was said, had the most _impeccable_ fashion sense.

"It is that," Anne said cheerfully. Meg's eyes widened to their limit, and she barely stopped her mouth from doing the same. Jo almost said, "Fancy shmancy!" Bella looked at her in amusement, as if she had heard Jo's thought.

The room looked like something out of the most possibly chic interior decorating magazine, but the true attraction was a walk-in closet that looked as if it might have been the storage room in Saks Fifth Avenue. Jo frowned. This was what the Moffat girls wanted to show them? Claire's bedroom?

"Welcome to Extreme Makeover, Moffat Edition," Bella explained with another glance at the March girls' dresses. "Claire lost some weight this summer, so her things should just fit you, Meg. And I've got something Jo can wear. We're about the same size...give or take an inch or two."

"Huh uh," Jo said backing off as Bella brought out some concoction that seemed composed of diamonds of a shade Jo could only describe as prune color, with some beads and iridescent feathers attached, along with a skirt that looked like it might cover a little more skin than a middle-sized Band-aid, and held it up to Jo's shoulders. "I don't think so. It's not my color."

"Of course it is," Bella said. "Come on, it'll be fun. I haven't worn it in a dog's age. It's gotten a little too tight for me. I must have found the weight Claire lost. You can even have it, if you like. It's going to the consignment shop otherwise. Come on, live a little, girlfriend. Don't you want to _sparkle_?"

"I'm not your girlfriend, and I think I'm plenty sparkly already," Jo said. "If I go down there looking like I've been rolling around in prunes, everybody'll laugh their butts off. And I'm allergic to feathers. Good thing I'm not a bird, what? Come on, Megs, let's go down and knock 'em dead with our vintage couture."

"At least get a bit of makeup," Bella pleaded. "No, it doesn't have to be like mine. After wearing that god-awful uniform in that snooty-ass private school all year, I like to go a little extreme during the holidays. But you guys could look gorgeous if you were just touched up a little. And Jo, those shoes...I think we wear the same size, don't you?"

"I like my own just fine, thanks," Jo said curtly, glancing at Bella's heels, which were likely five inches high soaking wet. "I get a nosebleed on any heels higher than an inch and a half, and that's on a good day."

"They're Guccis," Bella said with a little wink of her incredibly painted eyelid. "Are you sure?"

"They'd probably tickle then," Jo said. "After all, 'gucci' is what you say when you tickle a baby under its chin, right? Gucci gucci gucci? I'm horribly ticklish."

"Jo, you're a scream!" Bella squealed. "I can tell you and me are gonna get along just fine, babe. We're two of a kind."

Jo barely repressed a shudder.

"Let's do it, Jo," Meg pleaded looking at the pile of dresses Anne had laid on the bed. "It's only for one night, what harm can it do?"

"Knock yourself out," Jo said. "But I think I'll go back down and see if I can scare up an intellectual discussion or something. And if you come down looking like a Christmas tree exploded all over you, Meg March, I'm going to cut you out of my will."

"Jo, you're so funny," Anne said with a little giggle. "When you see what we're going to do with Meg, you'll change your mind, I just know it."

"Don't hold your breath," Jo said, and with that devastating parting shot she turned and made her way down the stairs with her head held high. And who should she spy at the foot of the stairs but Eddy, looking up expectantly.

"What gives?" he asked, obviously disappointed that she wasn't Meg.

"Lady Gaga up there was trying to turn me into Lady Gaga Junior, and I wasn't having any," Jo explained. "For cripesake, she's eighteen, what's an old person like her doing hanging out with us kids anyway? It's creepy. I don't need her help to look ridiculous anyway. And if she does anything like that to Meg, I'm going to knock the bejesus out of her, and you may tell her I said so."

Eddy looked at her stupidly and she brushed on past him after telling him to close his mouth before he fell in.

In what the Moffats fondly called their "rumpus room," the party was in full swing, or at least, as full as it was likely to get. It was a huge room, lined with mirrors that made it look even huger, lit with a bajillion colored lights. The Christmas tree, or holiday tree or whatever they called it, was still up, a good twelve feet tall, gold colored with as many gold balls as would cover it, and all blue lights...or, at least until they went out and pink ones came on, then those changed into yellow lights, which blinked twice and then the blue ones came on again. They were pulsing in time to the music, Jo realized after a dazzled moment. Just makes you want to fall on your knees and lift up your eyes in reverent wonder,she thought.

Disco balls hung from the ceiling, and there was a fountain right smack in the middle of the room, with, naturally, colored lights all around. Several couples were dancing, and many other partygoers stood around watching, glasses in their hands, some smoking cigarettes, all trying to look as cool as possible. And through an open space Jo could see a few couples cuddled up on certain articles of furniture.

I have arrived, she thought.

As she was getting a drink from the punch bowl on the refreshment table, a boy she recognized hollered, "Hi there Jojo, wuzzup?"

It was Robby Blayne, who was on the staff of the school paper. He called himself a "photojournalist," with a delightful predilection for snapping pictures and video clips of students in acutely embarrassing predicaments and posting them online, with such piquant captions as "What is this certain someone with a certain something sticking out of a certain somewhere doing in a certain place like this?"

"Fancy seeing you here," he said when she failed to answer his greeting with anything wittier than "Well, look what the cat drug in." "I read that piece you wrote in the school paper last month. It was a hoot. Wow, you look almost human in a dress. Is your big sis with you?"

"She's upstairs getting Moffatized, if you really must know," Jo told him, looking down at him with a fish eye-she was taller than he, though a year younger. He looked more like fourteen than sixteen. "So. Take any pictures of your grandma taking her teeth out lately?"

"Snarky much?" he said with a startled and half-guilty laugh. "But ya know, you do look pretty hot tonight, Jojo. You have great hair. Who knew, right? Hey, hold still a sec. This is a Kodak moment if ever there was one..." He snatched his digital camera from his shirt pocket. "Say cheese!"

"Oh no you don't, dipwad," she told him, turning her back to him, to the amusement of several bystanders. "Here, take a picture of my pink lightning streak. Then you can kiss it."

"Aw come on, Jo, be nice," he whined. "Just one pic. Pretty please?"

She noticed a door with a beaded curtain just ahead of her, and before he could focus, she had stepped through it, immediately slipping on some small object someone had dropped on the floor, stumbling right into the lap of someone on a loveseat in what turned out to be a small sitting room.

"Damn and blast!" she exclaimed, extricating herself in acute embarrassment. "Sorry, the papparazzi were after me. I..." Then she stopped cold when she saw the darkly handsome face of the boy she was talking to, still sprawled on the floor at his feet.

It was her neighbor from across the street. Theodore Laurence.

"Christopher H. Columbus," she gasped.


	5. Zombies

5. Zombies

"Are you ok?" he asked her. "Here, let me help you up..."

Still stunned speechless, she let him take her hand and assist her to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, with concern that sounded genuine.

"Umm...no, don't think so," she stammered. Wow. Just...wow. He was wearing a dazzling white shirt and a dark blue vest that was partly unbuttoned, and a gold-colored tie.

"Here, I'm ok now. Just let me sit down a minute. No, I haven't been drinking, if that's what you think. I..."

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked. She started. "You're..."

"Your neighbor," she said with a grin. "Yeah. I was at your house...recently. I remember you. You're..."

"Theodore Laurence...but you can call me Theo," he said with a little shy grin, although his dark eyes twinkled roguishly. "And you are...?"

"Jodie March. With an ie. But you can call me Jo." She giggled a little shakily, aware that she wasn't acting a bit like herself.

"Jodie?"

"Yeah...after Jodie Foster, the movie actress. My dad really likes her. He says my mom looks a lot like her, only with darker hair. But everybody just calls me Jo, even my teachers."

"Pleased to meet you, Jo. I'm not even sure how I ended up at this party. I don't know a soul here, and there's so much racket, it seemed useless to even try to introduce myself. I was just thinking of calling my driver to take me home. I got the invitation in the mail, and came here just because I didn't have anything else to do but play video games or watch TV."

"You're new in town, aren't you?"

"Yes. I've been here for a little over a month."

"I haven't seen you in school," she said.

"That's because I don't go," he said.

"You're home schooled, or you go to a private school?"

"Home schooled. My parents were killed in a car wreck about a year ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jo exclaimed. "I never dreamed..."

"It's ok, Jo. I was staying with my aunt Vicky, who's my dad's sister, but I and her husband didn't get along so good. He's kind of an assho...oops, sorry. I guess I wasn't any grand prize myself. My parents were about to get a divorce, anyway. They did nothing but fight any more. That's how they got killed. They got into this huge argument in the car, and the road was slick and they weren't paying attention to where they were going. I was with them, that's how I know. I got a fractured wrist and a mild concussion, but as you can see I survived."

"That's just terrible," Jo said shaking her head. "That they got killed, I mean. And that they fought all the time. I can't even imagine that. And so you live with..."

"My grandfather, yes. I don't always get on so good with him either, but he's better than my uncle, at least. A lot more patient. I don't go to school because...well, because I got in some trouble earlier this year. I and my aunt and uncle had this major meltdown, and I stole their car and took me a nice little joy-ride in it, had a little crack-up and got myself arrested."

Jo's mouth fell wide open. "You didn't!" she said, immediately thinking how incredibly dumb that sounded.

"Yes, I did," he admitted. "I spent six weeks in a reformatory, and then aunt and uncle threw me out, so I ended up with Granddad. I didn't have anybody else to go to, that would take me in, after that little escapade. And so...here I am. And that's the long, fascinating story of the life and times of Theodore Laurence. I guess you think I'm a real JD. Maybe I am. But I'm really trying to be good. You see, I had a horse, and I had to give him up after all that mess. But Granddad said if I keep my nose clean and behave myself, in a year maybe I can have him back."

"Well," Jo said, much taken aback, "I've come pretty near getting busted a time or two myself. I nearly put a girl in the hospital, back in the spring, when she wouldn't shut her yap about my sisters and my dad. I can be a force to reckon with when it comes to defending my family's honor. It was my self-styled nemesis Darcy Evans. She's had it in for me since the sixth grade. I guess it's partly my fault. I wasn't very nice to her when I was living higher on the hog than I am now. She hasn't forgotten it."

"How many sisters do you have?" he asked, sounding relieved that she wasn't making a big deal about his past exploits.

"Three. Totally different from me. You've seen us before?" Jo lifted her eyebrows. She'd had no idea he had observed her and her family.

"I could see you from my window on the second story. My bedroom faces the street. I had pneumonia pretty bad a couple of weeks ago, which was my own stupid fault 'cause I had this big fight with Granddad and ran out and got caught in a big storm...though at least I didn't take his car. I had to stay in bed for a while, and when I got tired of games and books and TV I'd watch people going by on the street and across the way. I don't have any brothers or sisters, myself. I've seen you going out with a sled sometimes. You like tobogganing?"

"Love it," she said, glad to be off the subject of their checkered pasts. "How about you?"

"Same here, but I like skiing even better. Do you ski?"

"No, but I'd love to learn. I like skating too, but don't own a decent pair of skates any more."

"Is there a good place to go skating around here? I really don't know my way around yet at all, and been too sick to go check it out much."

"There's a fantastic pond nearby. I'll have to take you out to it sometime."

"I'd like that." He smiled. She smiled too. "So you're not here with a guy?"

"No, with my sister Meghan. Speaking of whom, I wonder if they're through with her up there. They're giving her some kind of major beauty treatment. Do you know the Moffats?"

"I met them coming in, briefly. Are they friends of yours?"

"Guess you could say they're friends of a friend. Their mom is friends with Sally Gardiner's mom-Sally's a friend of Meg's mainly. I like her ok, but we don't have too much in common now. Anne and Bella Moffat don't even go to our school. I came for the same reason you did, I suspect. Or maybe out of morbid curiosity. To see how the other half lives. Or something. I keep feeling like I've just walked into the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. That's what the Moffats are, zombies. Absolute zombies. Look into their eyes sometime."

He laughed. "Come on, they can't be that bad. So you don't like to party?"

"Oh yes, I like it when I can shine a bit and don't have to dodge too many idiots. I freely admit to liking to be the center of attention, and at a shindig like this, I feel like I'd get eaten up alive if I even look at somebody the wrong way. Costume parties are more my thing, I guess. I like Halloween parties where people are just _pretending_ to be zombies. Parties with _real_ zombies are a whole 'nother ball of wax."

He laughed some more. "You kill me," he said when he could get his breath. "I've never met a girl like you before."

She actually felt herself blushing. "You don't have a girlfriend?"

"No. There weren't any girls in my school. I hated it. All full of snobs and phonies and morons playing politics, sucking up to all the bigshots, bragging about their junk and all the girls they did it with-supposedly-all that crap. Sometimes I just felt like taking a machine gun to the whole damn place... Oh, sorry, Jo, I didn't mean to scare you. I guess you think I'm a real psycho."

"Well...no," she said although truth to tell, she did feel a little shaken. One moment he seemed so nice, then there was this other side of him. It was freaky. "Seems like that school was full of zombies too."

"The original Walking Dead Academy," he said with a little laugh, but there was no actual mirth in it. "At least I won't be going back. Not after my little stint in the reform school. Even though some of the guys in the academy got away with some sh-stuff I wouldn't even tell you about."

"What was that like? Reform school, I mean... Oh wait, you don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have asked. I was born with terminal foot-in-mouth disease."

"It's ok, Jo. Let's just say I'm keeping my ass out of trouble as much as I can now. No way I'm going back there, either."

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the room, and the music stopped. Jo stood up. Could it be... On a strong hunch, she went to the bead curtain and peeked out.

There were the Moffat girls and Sally...and another with them. Jo rubbed her eyes with her fists and looked again.

"Whiskey tango foxtrot?" she said as Theo came up behind her, saying, "What is it?"

The girl with them wore a dress of dazzling white...or rather, she was almost wearing it. It was strapless and the skirt seemed to consist of a string of gauzy handkerchiefs dangling about her waist. Her hair was twisted up into a startling updo held in place with a few sparkly somethings, and a necklace that looked like a string of icicles hung about her throat, and matching earrings. Her eyes were ringed darkly and dabbed with silver and turquoise and lavender glittery paint, her lips smeared with some dark metallic stuff, even a little black beauty mark painted just below them. Chunky silver and crystal bracelets adorned her wrists and upper arms...one of which was sporting a tattoo of some sort.

But for the shoes, she would have been virtually unrecognizable.

"Who's that?" Theo said with a low whistle.

"My sister," Jo said shaking her head a little. "They did it. They totally effing did it. The zombies ate her brains...and she let them do it."

She watched in consternation as Meg and the others made their way to the refreshment table, where Anne picked up a bottle of champagne that had been opened and poured herself a glass, then poured one for Meg. Sally was staring at her as though trying to find her friend under all the glitz. Some boys began sidling up, their eyes riveted upon the stranger...and there was Eddy Moffat himself among them.

Jo forgot all about Theo then, and strode toward the table.

"All right," she said to the Moffat girls, "what in the name of all that's holy have you done with my sister? My friend here has a machine gun, and he knows how to use it."

Bella laughed aloud, blowing out a little cloud of smoke from the cigarette she held...in a holder, no less. Anne snickered, Sally looking a trifle sheepish. Meg gave Jo a little guilty half-smile, while Eddy just stared at Meg as though she were the Second Coming.

"Hi, Jo," Meg said. "Well. Here I am. Come now, I'm not so bad as all that...am I?"

"_I_ think she's the cat's meow," Bella said. "Don't you, Eduardo?"

"Smokin'," Eddy said, and he actually spilled some of the contents of his ever-present glass. And yet he didn't seem to know what else to say.

"I think it's amazing," Sally said looking slightly dazed.

"Meg," Jo said, "you're not actually drinking that stuff, are you?"

"Just one glass, Jo," Meg said looking down at it. "It's New Year's Eve, after all. One glass won't hurt anything." She took a little sip. "Cheers," she said with a giggle that sounded so much like Anne's, it fairly raised goosebumps on Jo.

"Cheers," Anne said and she lifted her glass and clinked it with Meg's, then Sally and Bella did the same. "Hey Jo. Who's your friend?"

"This is Theo, our neighbor," Jo said turning to look at him. He was still staring at Meg, and Jo felt an acid blackness within. _Well. He's a goner now_. _He'll never look my way again. _

Meg favored him with a dazzling smile. So she liked what she saw, too. Excellent. Just...excellent.

Not.

"I'm Anne and this is my sister Bella," Anne said with her most flirty smile and a provocative little contrapposto. "And our brother Ed. And our friends Sally and Meg. Delighted to meet you, Theo. So how do you like our quaint little village? Backward enough for you?"

Before he could answer, the music started up again. Seemed it was coming from a machine in the next room. A boy turned to Meg saying, "Wanna dance?"

Meg looked at Jo, who was staring rather darkly at her, and then looked quickly away, setting her glass on the table.

"I would love to," she said to the boy in a husky tone that was utterly unlike her. And away she and her partner went to the dance floor.

"Well," Jo said. And for the life of her, could think of no more to say. She could only watch the girl who used to be Meg, caught up in the flashing colored lights playing on the crystal beads and sequins of the tiny dress and baubles as she moved like a marvelous creature of the elements, ice princess and snow fairy, hardly seeming to touch the floor.

"Ready for your turn now, Jojo?" Anne asked sweetly, reaching up to touch her own coiffure. Sally giggled nervously. Jo didn't answer. A boy came and asked Anne to dance, then Ed finally wrenched his eyes from Meg and turned to Jo.

"Well, li'l sister, shall we trip it?" he asked her.

"No, thanks," she said woodenly. "I suck at dancing. I'll just watch."

"Well, be that way," he said with a mock pout. "Sally-gal? Care to join me in a vertical expression of a horizontal desire?"

Sally gave him her cutely goofy little grin, and went to the floor with him. Jo turned to see Theo looking at her.

"You ok, Jo?" he asked. She started.

"Yeah...I guess," she said. "I'm just...well, I don't know what to think. What do you make of that?"

"I'm not even sure what happened," he admitted. "Your sister...well, she...she's beautiful. But somehow not herself, I take it? I mean, I've seen her before, out in the yard with you and the others, and, well..."

"Exactly," Jo said. "Well, I knew they were going to doll her up, but I wasn't prepared to actually see the end result, with her prancing around with paint all over her face and a dress the size of a snowflake. Here comes Suzy Snowflake, indeed. I'm still discombobulated. I mean, she was the fairy princess and I was the wild and crazy one, and now all of a sudden we've changed places, she's walking on the wild side while I'm stuck in the corner disapproving like some old-maid Sunday school teacher. It's downright surreal. I hope tomorrow she'll take it off all and just be Meg again, but I don't know. I guess I'm afraid maybe after this she'll have this taste of the high life or something like that, and she'll never quite be the Meg I know again. Maybe I'm making too much out of this, but... I don't know. It scares me. What if she turns into some party girl like Anne or Bella, and sees me in a whole different light or something? I don't want anything _happening_ to our family. I don't want anything to change."

"I don't think you should worry so much about it, Jo," Theo said kindly. "She just wants to have some fun. I mean, it's New Year's and we're at a party, right? Come on, why don't _we _dance? We can go in that room if you don't want to be seen."

"Well...ok," Jo said finally. "But you might be sorry you asked me. Fair warning."

Theo laughed. He had a very nice laugh.

"You wouldn't be any worse than me, I bet," he said. "I've never been dancing before."

Jo felt better all of a sudden. She laughed too. "I would love to," she said in exaggerated imitation of Meg's sultry tone.

And they danced behind the bead curtain. Both cut unexpected capers, imitating the others with exaggerated motions, cracking each other up with their antics. They were in stitches by the time the song was over, then danced several more numbers. And then they heard someone clapping right outside the curtain. Jo peeked out, and there was Robby Blayne.

"Great job, guys!" he said. "Check out my Youtube account in a few days to see the replay, ok?"

"You got us on camera?" Theo said a bit darkly.

"Yep, got it all here," Robby said with a little pat of his shirt pocket. "I could see you behind that curtain and all. Hey, but you guys are good, you know it? Better than a lot of those bozos out there. It was cool, it really was."

"Have at it," Jo said frostily. "People probably wouldn't be able to tell who we are anyway, with that curtain there. And it's been my lifelong dream to be on Youtube anyway."

"You really don't mind?" Theo asked her.

"Not at all," she said. Robby looked remotely disappointed. "Do you?"

"Not if you don't," Theo said. "Do you really mind? Because if you do, I can stop him."

"Nah," Jo said. "Why spoil his little fun? High time he found something more interesting to post than clips of people picking their noses or finding cockroaches on their trays at the school cafeteria."

"Eww," Theo said.

"Why were you guys dancing in that room anyway?" Robby asked. "You really _are_ good. I'm not just saying that."

"We were pretending it was a stage," Jo said.

"Why aren't _you _dancing?" Theo asked him.

"Well...I don't like to dance much," Robby said with a little shrug. "I'm more of an observer, I guess. But what the hey. Care for a dance, Jo?"

"No thanks, squirt," she told him. "Why don't you ask Bella. She's into younger guys, I think."

Robby gave a snort. "Bella? You kidding me? She's into anything that moves. Haven't you heard?"

"Well, _you _move, right?" Jo said. "So do it already."

Robby flushed and glared at her, crossing his arms over his narrow chest.

"Think you're smart, don't ya?" he said. "Well. I wasn't gonna tell you this, but I guess I will. I heard the Moffat girls talking a while ago. Would you like me to tell you what they said about your precious sister?"

"Oh, I think I can guess," Jo said.

"Yeah, right. Hell, I'll tell you anyway. They're placing bets on who can take Meg's...virginity. What do you think about _that_? This whole dressing her up thing was part of their plot. They were fattening her up for the kill, you might say. I wouldn't hardly of believed it, even of them, except I heard it with my own ears."

"You're making that up," Jo said, and chill bumps actually popped up all over her skin.

"Go on over and ask 'em," Robby said with a cocky jerk of his sandy head. "Go on, I dare ya."

And with that he turned and stalked off into the crowd. Jo glanced around wildly for her sister, and soon saw her dancing with not one, but two guys, shaking her hips and popping her fingers over her head in time to the music. Jo could only stare, although she had been doing much the same herself just moments before.

"She's been hitting the champagne," Jo said through clenched teeth. "I better go over and tell her what that little wart said. I think he was just trying to get a rise out of me, or start some crap, or both. But you never know."

Suddenly a scream rang out.

"What the?" Jo whirled around. And saw Meg sitting on the floor near the fountain, clutching at her ankle.

Jo trotted over to her sister, pushing others out of the way, Theo following close behind. The music stopped.

"Meg!" she hollered. "Are you ok? What happened?"

Sally came over and stooped down beside Meg. Jo bent down also.

"Curt Hodges tried to drag me out into the hall," Meg cried, pointing in the general direction of a boy who suddenly disappeared through a door. "I tried to get away from him, and I fell...and I think I sprained my ankle. OW!"

She started to stand...and that was when it happened...the top of her dress fell down. She gasped and clapped her arms over her bosom just in time.

And simultaneously a suspicious click was heard nearby. Jo looked up to see Robby Blayne with his camera. Meg gasped.

Jo sprang up and lunged at him, saying, "Gimme that!" He danced away from her, laughing a little. The others watched in amused delight. Then Theo pounced on him from behind, wrenched the camera out of his hand, and said, "Here Jo, catch!"

She grabbed for it, but missed...and it went right into the fountain.

"That's good enough," she said with a laugh. Robby Blayne gave a cry of horror.

"You are so paying for that!" he howled, whether at Jo or Theo it was hard to tell, rushing up to the fountain and bending down to see where his treasure had landed. "That camera cost five hundred dollars! Get it out of there right now!"

"Get it yourself," Jo said giving him a bit of assistance with the sole of her shoe to his rear end. In he went, head first.

The room roared as though a gigantic vacuum cleaner had been turned on, some laughing, some cheering, as he came up sputtering in impotent fury and humiliation. Jo and Theo rushed over to Meg. One of the sparkly things had come out of her hair and it came tumbling about her face and shoulders.

"Here," Theo said taking off his jacket and laying it around her shoulders, then he took her left arm while Jo took her right. As they assisted her to stand, she forgot and put her weight on the injured foot. And...

"Oh, SHIT!" she cried.


	6. Resolutions

6. Resolutions

They had to wait in the emergency room for a full hour before a doctor could attend to Meg's ankle. Jo debated in her mind whether or not to tell her about what Robby said.

Theo and another boy had carried Meg upstairs so she could change back into her own clothes, with help from Jo and Sally. Annabella-Jo's new name for the Moffat sisters-were all gushy solicitude, Anne brightly assuring Meg that Eddy had punched Curt right in the _nose_, while Bella had a different story: Eddy had come upon Curt and found him unconscious on the floor, then passed out right on top of him. Robby hovered anxiously outside the door, asking from time to time if Meg were all right, and then the ambulance came. Someone had gone for Ophelia the housekeeper, and found her snoring on her bed with her TV going.

Jo felt totally dazed. "She said the 'S word'," she said to in an undertone to no one in particular. "I heard her with my own two ears. She actually said it. Meg the fair, Meg the lovable, Meg the lily maid of Astolat. I think the world is ending. Well, I guess Lady Elianna becomes a vampire after all."

"Do you think maybe it's broken?" Theo asked Meg as he and Jo sat down beside the gurney in the ambulance. Sally had wanted to come along, but there was not enough room. "That was some scream you let out."

"That wasn't me," she said closing her eyes. "Curt tried to pin me to the wall, and he got my zipper down a little and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. So I got my knee right up in his...you know."

"That's my girl!" Jo said, and to her surprise, Theo winced.

"I feel so stupid," Meg kept saying as her mother and another nurse helped her into a hospital gown and placed a pillow under her injured ankle in the emergency room. "I acted like a total idiot. I wish I'd never let them talk me into wearing that ridiculous dress. Then none of this would have happened. I would never have acted like that in my own clothes."

"How much of that champagne did you drink?" her mother said. She was furious to find that Mrs. Moffat had gone off leaving the party unchaperoned. What WAS she thinking?

"Not much at all," Meg said. "I didn't even drink the whole glass. I didn't like it. And a guy asked me to dance anyway before I could drink more than a few sips, and then I forgot all about it. It wasn't the champagne that went to my head. It was all the attention. And that stupid dress. I made such a fool of myself, and now I'll be ruined. I can never hold my head up again!"

She sobbed a little. Mrs. March smoothed back a lock of her hair.

"Did you see what we did to that scuzzy little rat?" Jo said in an attempt to cheer her up. "It's dollars to donuts Theo and I ended his career as a 'photojournalist'. We totally dampened his spirits in more ways than one!"

"Do you suppose it's true what he said?" Theo asked. "About...you know." He glanced at Meg, who lifted her eyebrows.

"What did he say?" Meg asked. Jo clamped her lips together. It hadn't occurred to her that Theo might speak about it.

"I guess I might as well tell you," Jo said. "Robby said he heard Annabella say they were taking bets...on who could take your...virginity. Did you ever hear anything so-"

"_What_?" Meg sat up straight in the bed.

"_What_?" Mrs March said simultaneously.

"I don't know if it's true or if Robby was just making it up," Jo said. "He said they and Eddy and Sally and some other guys were all in on it. That's why they dressed you up, he said. They were going to get you drunk, and all that crap, and that was it. I bet Eddy put them up to it...if it's true, that is. I wouldn't put it past him. And if it IS true..."

"I don't believe it," Meg said sinking back once more. "Why would they do that?"

"Why does anybody do anything?" Jo said, immediately thinking how lame that sounded. "Maybe they planned to do it to me too. They were trying to get me to wear that pruny thing of Bella's, after all."

"I wish I'd never let them do it," Meg said sniffling a little. "I wish I'd never gone to that stupid old party. I wish I'd never even been _born_."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Meggie," her mother said taking her hand. "Remember _It's a Wonderful Life_, that we watched last night? You can't possibly wish you were never born."

"I don't possibly see how the world would be any poorer without me in it," Meg said childishly wiping her nose with the back of her wrist. "All I do is screw things up. I'm a loser."

"I thought _I_ was the screwer-upper in the family," Jo said. "Well, when I get my hooks on Ms. Annabella, I'm going to screw _them_ up once and for all. Nasssty Moffatsessss, we hates them!" she said in her best Gollum imitation. "Cursssse them!"

Theo laughed and Mrs. March allowed herself a grin. Meg managed a tiny smile, which lasted only a flicker of a second.

"But...but...Sally was in on it?" she said, her lips quivering. "I can't believe _that_. She's my friend...or so I thought."

"So I thought too," Jo said. "I think I need to pay her a little...social call."

"Meg, don't beat yourself up over this, sweetie," Mrs. March said. "You didn't do anything so terrible. I just can't believe Mrs. Moffat ran off and left that party unchaperoned. It was monstrously remiss of her. No telling what might have happened with a liquor cabinet and some irresponsible and overprivileged youngsters all together on New Year's Eve. I'm going to give it to her hot and heavy. She's not going to know whether she's coming or going."

"Can I watch?" Jo asked. "What are you going to do, Mom? Sue her brains out?"

"Mom, please don't make a big deal out of this," Meg pleaded. "I just want to forget it ever happened. Do you really think Sally was in on it? I don't care so much about...Annabella, but..."

Just then footsteps were heard, and Sally's voice asking about Meg. Then the curtain surrounding Meg's partition parted, and there she stood. She had changed into slacks and a sweater, her coat hanging carelessly open.

"Meg?" she said. "Are you all right? How is your ankle?"

Jo stood up and strode over to her.

"Jo," Mrs. March said warningly.

"Well, I must say, you have your nerve showing your face here, little missy," Jo said, totally disregarding her mother's look, confronting Sally with her classic wide-legged stance, hands on hips, such as they were. "So you and the Moffats were taking bets on who'd get my sister's cherry, were you?"

"_No_!" Sally cried. "Of COURSE I wasn't in on that! I would never do something like that!" She rushed past Jo over to Meg, who sat straight up now. "Meg, you don't believe I was in on that, do you?"

"Then it _is _true?" Meg said.

"Robby told me all about it," Sally explained. "I asked Anne, and she said Robby made the whole thing up because he hated them and wanted to get them in trouble, but you know, she looked awful guilty if you ask me. Bella laughed and said anybody who took that little idiot seriously had to be batshi-um, crazy. But she seemed pretty nervous too, and _that's_ certainly not like her. So I think it _is _true. It _was _my idea to dress you up, Meg, but I only meant it for fun, honest. I would_ never_ have done it if I'd known what they were up to. I think it's totally despicable. You do believe me, don't you Meg?"

She was crying a little. Meg reached out and took her hand.

"I believe you, Sally," she said. "But why would they do it?"

"I don't know." Sally blew her nose on the tissue Mrs. March handed her and wiped her eyes. "I wouldn't say this to just anybody, but I'm a virgin too. But they didn't do it to _me_. I think they're jealous of you, that's it. Because you're so beautiful and talented, and people think so highly of you. They wanted to ruin you. Bring you down to their level. That's all I can think of. People think I'm just this dumb girl like any other, not special at all. So they don't care if _I'm_ a virgin or not and they don't care about ruining _me_. But it's different with you."

"I think she hit the nail on the head," Theo said with a nod. Jo was rather surprised at Sally's perceptivity, herself. She knew Sally was a bit brighter than she came across, but still.

"I didn't really even want to dress you up," Sally said, "after I saw you in your own dress. You looked so amazing in it. I admit I was a little jealous too. But still I would never in a million gazillion _years_ do that other thing."

"I suppose I better pay for Robby's camera," Theo said. "When Granddad finds out about it, he won't be any too pleased. And I'm supposed to be minding my p's and q's and all."

"Have you got enough money?" Jo asked.

"Not if it really costs five hundred dollars. But I've got some stuff I could sell. Like my laptop."

"I bet it doesn't. Where would he get five hundred dollars? His folks aren't that rich."

"I must thank the two of you for getting that camera away from him," Meg said sniffling. "All I need is for him to post me flashing the whole party on the Internet. I'd just totally _die_ if he ever did that."

"I don't think anybody saw anything," Sally said. "You covered yourself up just in time."

"I guess it's partly my fault he pulled that little stunt," Jo said. "I was pretty rude to him. I think he did it to get me back. I was nasty to him because he filmed me and Theo dancing, though. I wouldn't have minded that so much if he hadn't been sneaky about it, but he was, and it ticked me off."

"I used to feel sorry for him," Meg said, "because the other kids picked on him so much. On account of him being short and pimply and kind of goofy looking. But not any more. I'm not one of the ones who picked on him-in fact, I got onto them a couple of times about doing it."

"Maybe that's why he takes those pictures," Mrs. March said. "It's his way of getting revenge on the others for bullying him. Maybe he feels it's the only way he can avenge himself. Not that it excuses him. But maybe it could help you to understand why he does it."

"Well, if he had a problem with me, he should have taken it up with _me_," Jo said, "not with Meg. She didn't do anything to him. He can whistle for that camera. If he starts making a big whoop de do about it, I think I'll just drop a little note to his daddy."

"I guess I'll forgive him then," Meg said. "I can rise above all this...this ugliness, and not let anyone take me down to their level, if I can understand and forgive...Robby, at least. The Moffats are a whole different matter. I'm not _that_ noble, I'm afraid."

"Who the hell _is_?" Theo said. "Oops...sorry."

Finally the doctor came and examined Meg's ankle, and said it was sprained, although not severely. He put a brace on it and gave her a shot for the pain, wrote her out a prescription, then said she could go home, but stay off her feet as much as possible.

"Well, at least we won't be seeing all this on Youtube after all," Jo said after they were home. "I'm willing to settle for a spread in _Vanity Fair,_ myself."

"So...tell us about Theo?" her mother said.

ooooo

"You said it," Jo said next morning as she was getting dressed. Meg was sitting up in her bed, sipping a cup of coffee Beth had brought her, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow, still in her pajamas. "You said the 'S word'. Loud and clear. I still can't get it out of my head. I even dreamed about it."

Meg laughed a little. "After everything that happened, you're freaking out over a _word_? One you've used yourself on sundry occasions, I might add."

"Well, but that's different. I'm me, and you're you. I mean, everybody knows _I'm _a reprobate. But you, you're...you're the fairy princess. The Lily Maid of Astolat. You're Lady Elianna in my book. You're-"

Meg laughed more. "Jo, I'm not any of those. I'm just _me_. And stepping down on my ankle like that last night, well, it HURT."

"You broke your wrist two years ago in that bike accident, and you let nary a cussword pass your ruby-red lips," Jo pointed out. "I'm just-"

"You didn't hear me when they were setting it," Meg said with lifted eyebrows. "Jo, you're making much too big of a deal out of this. I'm a long way from perfect. And it's just a word, after all."

"Don't put people on pedestals, Jo," said their mother coming into the partly opened door. "Pedestals are for statues and urns. There's not enough room on them for living, breathing human beings, and they have a way of falling off...or jumping off. Are you girls ready for some breakfast now? We've got blueberry waffles."

After breakfast, all gathered together in the living room to take down the tree and discuss their New Year's resolutions, as was their custom. The oldest went first.

"Which would be me," Hannah said. "Age before beauty, what? I'm goin' to quit smoking."

"You say that every year," Amy said. She sat perched on an ottoman, rocking herself back and forth, impatient to get this business over and done with so she could go use her new paints. Jo sprawled on the rug next to the fireplace, Beth sitting beside her with Mimi in her lap. Meg sat on the couch with her foot propped on a throw pillow. Mrs. March and Hannah occupied the chairs.

"For real this time," Hannah said with a sip of her coffee.

"You _have_ cut down," Mrs. March said. "You used to smoke two packs a day, now it's one pack, isn't it?"

"Yep. Gettin' too darned expensive any more. Not to mention bad for me. My blood pressure ain't what it used to be."

"I'm glad you're going to quit smoking, Hannah," Beth said. "I worry about you sometimes. What would I _do_ without my faithful teacher?"

The others laughed softly.

"Ok Mom, your turn," Jo said.

"I'm going to try to stop being a worry-wart," Mrs. March said.

"You're not a worry-wart, Mom," Beth said looking puzzled.

"Oh, but I am," her mother said. "I don't always express it, but it's there. All mothers worry, I know. But I think I do it a little more than most. It's a bad habit to get into.."

"Anything else?" Jo said.

"I'm going to stop using Latin expressions," Mrs. March said. "Nobody knows what they mean any more, and they makes me look like a show-off."

More laughter.

"And," Mrs. March said, "I'm going to try to quit feeling sorry for myself because your father is away. Yesterday morning I was talking to one of my patients, and he said he had lost both his sons over there, within six months of each other. I'm just going to be thankful I haven't lost my husband...and that all my children are girls."

"I'm vain and lazy and materialistic," Meg said when it was her turn. "I like nice things...way too much. But I learned my lesson last night. I'm going to try to be content with what I've got, instead of wishing I had things I don't. I mean, look at the Benitezes. Compared to them, I don't have it so bad at all. And I'm sooo glad I'm a member of _this_ family and not of...a certain other."

"I'm going to quit swearing," Jo said after everyone had expressed their approval of Meg's resolution. Amy and Beth gasped, but Meg just looked away guiltily. "I think it's a sign of a vocabulary deficiency, don't you?"

Hannah chuckled. Mrs. March nodded, looking rather serious.

"Is that all?" Amy said, with a look that clearly indicated her opinion that there was plenty more about Jo that needed fixing.

"I'm going to quit wearing fake nails," Jo said. "They're a vain affectation and unnecessary expense. Besides, it hurts like the dickens trying to get them off."

Meg made a little "snerk" noise and Beth giggled. Amy rolled up her eyes.

"Anything else?" she said.

"Oh, I don't know as I want to give up my other vices," Jo said with an airy little flip of her hand. "They give me character, I think."

Loud laughter at that. Mimi stretched herself, looking about as though she wondered what these silly humans were carrying on about. Did they not realize that the only important things in life were a soft place by the fire and ribbons to play with?

"But I _will_ try to control my temper," Jo added. "Although we've all seen where having a temper can come in handy sometimes. And I'll stop putting people on pedestals. I guess everyone has feet of clay anyway. Makes me wonder how they keep their shoes on."

"I'd like to stop being such a wuss," Beth sighed. "I _hate_ being afraid of people. I want to be brave and bold and strong like the rest of you. But I don't know _how_."

"Well honey, I suggest you worry less about what you can't do," her mother said, "and concentrate more on what you can. Maybe if you work on that, you'll start to gain more confidence in yourself."

"I want too many things," Beth said. "I want to be beautiful like Meg, and funny like Jo, and, and poised like Amy. I don't want to just sit in a corner the rest of my life looking on while everybody else goes out and...does stuff."

"You _are _beautiful, Bethy," Meg said. "On the inside, where it really counts."

"You're better than all us girls put together," Jo said caressing Beth's hair. "It's us who should work on being more like you, instead of you like us."

The others expressed their agreement. Beth ducked her head to hide her red cheeks.

"Ok, now Amy," Jo said, more to divert attention from Beth and diffuse her embarrassment than anything else.

"I'm going to learn how to use my new oil paints," Amy said. This drew a snort from Jo and chuckles from the others.

"Aww, aren't we noble," Jo said with a roll of her eyes. "Must be nice not to have any shortcomings to work on. Pray tell us what it's like to be so all-fired virtuous."

"Oh, butt out, Jo," Amy said. "You think you know everything. Well. I guess I could...work on being more charming or something. Like Mrs. Mathers said. Maybe she can tell me how. She used to be a teacher, didn't she."

"Sure," Jo said. "Didn't they use to have charm schools, back in the olden days or something? Maybe they'll make a comeback."

"Wouldn't exactly kill _you_ to take a class in one," Amy said.

"I dare say Mom could tell you if you'd ask her," Meg said smiling at Amy. "She has charm to spare."

"The art of charm is no huge mystery," Mrs. March said. "It's a simple matter of good manners and tact. And smiling, and looking people in the eye, and being sincerely interested in them rather than expecting them to be interested in you. And treating them the way you wish to be treated. That's all you really need."

"In other words, stepping as far out of character as possible," Jo said. Mrs. March frowned at her.

"Maybe I _am_ too selfish sometimes," Amy admitted. "I'm going to start giving my old stuff to the poor when I get tired of it...Oh wait, that didn't come out right."

More laughter.

"You might start by picking up after yourself instead of leaving it all for Hannah and Beth," her mother suggested tweaking a lock of Amy's hair.

"I just thought of something else," Jo said snapping her fingers. "I'm going to apologize to Darcy Evans. For how I treated her back when we were in the sixth grade and all. I don't even really have an excuse for doing it. Yeah, she could be pretty rude and hateful, but still. I never did, you know. Apologize, I mean. Every time I even thought of doing it, she'd do something else that ticked me off. But even if she does, I'm still going to haul off and do it."

"I'm proud of you, Jo," Meg said softly. Jo felt a little glow inside. Deep down, she greatly valued Meg's opinion of her.

"So am I," said their mother and Hannah nodded in agreement. "Good resolutions, all of you. I hope we can help each other keep them this year. Maybe if we do that, and learn a little interdependency, instead of muddling along trying to do it all by ourselves, there's a good chance of not just letting them fall on the wayside... And there's Jessica out there waiting for me, so I'd better get to work now."

After Mrs. March had gone out, Jo put on her jacket and cap and snow boots, filled a small tin with cookies, and headed out the front door. Beth and Amy were playing out in the back yard with their friends Emily and Faith, while Meg still sat on the couch watching an old Deanna Durbin movie and shelling pecans for Hannah.

"Where are you going, Jo?" she asked.

"I've just made another resolution," Jo said with a wink. "I'm on a roll today, what? I'm going to start being more neighborly. I'm going over to watch the game with Theo. No time like the present, like I always say."

And she was out the door before Meg could point out that Jo had never used that expression before in her hearing.


	7. El Palacio Grande

7. El Palacio Grande

The housekeeper looked at her askance as she opened the door.

"I'm expected," Jo said. "I'm Jo March from across the way."

"It's ok, Mrs. Onderkirk," Theo said coming into the room. "She's our neighbor. I invited her over to watch the game last night. Can I take your wraps, Jo?"

Jo smiled uncertainly at Mrs. Onderkirk, who looked at her as though she were wearing a thong bikini. She was a heavy-set woman with a round red-cheeked muffin face, but evidently she was less cozy than she looked.

Wonder what she'll think of my hornet, Jo thought as she peeled off her jacket.

She didn't appear to think much of it.

"Nice sweater," Theo said with a grin.

"I figured it would be apropos for watching the game," Jo said with a wink. Mrs. Onderkirk gave both of them a "young folks these days look" as she took the jacket and cap to another room.

"Those smell good," Theo said as she opened the tin to show him.

"Fresh baked," Jo assured him as he took one to sample. "We may not be fancy folks, but we do know how to start off the New Year."

"I don't like fancy folks," Theo said with his thundery look. "They give me a royal pain in the tuchas. Especially after last night. How's Meg's ankle?"

"It hurts her, but I doubt it will ruin her stage career. Are we going to watch in here?"

"Nah. There's another room that doesn't look quite so Addams Family. This way."

"I like Addams Family, but whatever floats your dinghy. Wow, this is some little sugar shack you got here, dude."

"Would you like me to give you a tour of the house? It's half an hour till the game starts."

"I'd love it. Why don't we start with that room there?" She indicated the room she had merely glimpsed on her first visit...the one with all the books and the grand piano.

"Right this way," he said, then sneezed.

"Got a cold?"

"Yeah...not a bad one, though. I don't have to stay in the sack, but I can't go out sledding or anything either. I can catch cold by just thinking about it. Pretty soon you might get fed up and find somebody with better health to hang out with."

"Then stop thinking about it. Woah!" She halted in her steps as she beheld the library. "I bet this has more books than the public library, even."

He laughed a little. "Wait till you see Granddad's study. Not that you'd like his books, I'm sure. He's probably the only person on the planet who likes _Pilgrim's Progress_."

"Never heard of it. Is he home?"

"Yes. Upstairs in his study, where he spends most of his time. He won't bother us, though. He doesn't care much for football. Are you the only one in your family who likes it?"

"Other than my mom and dad. Meg does when it's the high school team playing, but she doesn't care about pro football."

Jo looked all around with wondering eyes. The room was lined with shelves. A deep dark-green sofa, two matching chairs and a table with a gorgeous black marble top stood off to one side, along with a couple of rich oriental rugs, a lamp of modern design, and a huge black vase. And the piano stood right in the middle, black with a mirror-like gloss, two silver candle holders flanking the music rack.

"Classic," Jo said under her breath. "Wish Bethy could see this. Do you play?"

"Yes, but I don't use this piano much. Granddad and me don't share the same taste in music. I like jazz and he likes classical."

"I don't think I've ever heard any jazz. Will you play a bit for me?"

"Well...I'm a little rusty, but here goes."

He opened the instrument and played a quick riff, then started a tune that was remotely familiar, but the things he did to it were something to hear. His fingers cut all kinds of capers over the keys, sometimes sardonic, other times lighthearted and mischievous. He finished with a rippling flourish, then looked up at her and grinned.

"Dang, you're _good_," she said with a low whistle, clapping her hands briskly. "I _have_ heard some jazz before. On TV, I guess. But nothing like _that_. I wish Beth could hear you."

"Bring her over sometime."

"I will, if I can coax her. She's very shy."

"She's the youngest one, isn't she?"

"No, that would be Amy. The blonde one. Beth does look younger than her, though. Amy's almost twelve, and Bethy will be thirteen in March. She thinks it's so cool that our name is March and yet she's the only one who's actually _born_ in March. I don't think she's ever heard any jazz. But she's pretty good herself for just a kid. She composes too, a little."

"I'd like to meet all your sisters. I like your mom a lot."

"Feel free to come visit us. She'd love to have you over."

"I will, if Granddad doesn't mind. Want to go meet him now?"

"Well...maybe later. Wow, I can't get over all these _books_. This is really El Palacio Grande."

He laughed. "If you ever want to borrow one, all you gotta do is ask. I'm the librarian here. Want to see the rest of the house?"

"Sure... Who's this?" Jo paused before an oval-shaped oil painting of a girl who looked to be about twelve. There was a candle burning on a small table that stood beneath the portrait, with several framed photos of the same girl at various ages.

"That's my aunt Elizabeth. She died before I was born. That was painted about a year before she passed away. She was only about twelve."

"She looks familiar somehow," Jo said. "Yet I'm not sure why. I can't possibly have seen her before."

"I wish I could have known her. She's much younger than my dad-he was about twelve when she was born, and aunt Vicky was eight. Granddad thought the world of her. She was musical too...although _I_ get it from my mother's side, I think. She was an Italian opera singer."

"Wow! Who knew, right? That must be where you get your dark looks and fiery temperament. Who was she?"

"Her name was Dorotea Calabrini. She's almost unheard of in the U.S., but she was pretty successful in Italy. I have some CDs of hers, if you're at all interested."

"Of course I am! I'm not much on opera, I guess-I know diddly-squat about it, and I'm not the least bit musical myself. But I'd love to hear your mom sing."

"She was with an American company for a while, but she didn't last long. She was the original temperamental prima donna, and Americans are less tolerant of that sort of thing than Italians. She was a real fireball. Sometimes when dad made her mad, she'd throw stuff at him, anything handy. She nearly knocked him out with an unabridged dictionary once. Sometimes she accused him of ruining her career. It wasn't exactly a match made in heaven, if you know what I mean. Not that he was totally blameless. He could be outright mule-headed, and I'm pretty sure he cheated on her too. Granddad couldn't abide her. He never even pretended otherwise. He and my dad haven't spoken since he and my mother were married."

"Wow," Jo said, at a loss for words. Which was completely unlike her.

"Granddad doesn't have any pictures of her, but I do. I'll show them to you. She was a real beauty. I've got a VHS of her singing Tosca at the Met, where she was a guest singer a time or two. It was taped from a telecast long ago and it's not very good, but she's great in it."

"I'll bet she was. This lady here...who's she?" Jo indicated another framed picture.

"That's Aunt Vicky," he said. "The one I was living with before. Victoria and Elizabeth. Queens' names."

"What was your dad's name? Henry?"

"Richard," he said with a small grin. "There he is." He pointed out another framed photo of a handsome young man. "In his younger days, of course."

"Nice," Jo said softly. "There's a door over there I didn't notice before. What does it lead to?"

"The dungeon and the torture chamber," Theo said in an ominous undertone, then laughed at Jo's expression. "It goes outside," he said. "I guess you can't see it so well from the street, on account of that big bush."

Jo laughed aloud. "Ya know, I used to make up some pretty wild stories about this house, myself."

"Did you?" Theo looked amused.

"Yeah. I knew they were probably a lot of hoss crap, but I have a pretty warped imagination. I've always been intrigued by this house."

"Well, I hope you're not too disappointed. To me, it's about as intriguing as a mausoleum. But since you're here, it's already brightened up a bit."

Jo felt herself blushing a bit. Theo glanced away, a bit embarrassed himself.

"I don't know why I told you all that stuff I did last night," he said. "I don't usually unload on anybody I haven't know for at least two hours. I don't know what came over me. Sorry if it was a little overwhelming."

"No problema," she said smiling. "You must get pretty lonesome here. I think what you need is a generous heaping helping of March, and I don't mean the kind you do in boot camp. I think it would do you a world of good, health-wise. Will you come over to dinner tonight? Bring your granddad if you like. I don't know what all we're having, but I strongly suspect chocolate pecan pie is on the dessert table, and Hannah's is to die for."

"Thanks, I will...if he'll come. He's not really the sociable type. But I bet he'd like you. He's not as grim as he looks."

"I should hope not," she said before she could stop herself. "Oops...there I go again. 'Scuse me a moment while I extract my size-nine foot from my size-ten mouth."

"That's ok," he laughed. "So. Have you seen enough, or shall we go look at some more?"

"More. We've still got some time before the game."

He led her down the hallway, where they saw the dining room, with a table the length of a football field, thought Jo, and some animal heads mounted on the wall-a moose, a zebra, a leopard, an antelope, and a water buffalo.

"Your granddad goes on safari?" she asked.

"He did a long time ago," Theo said, "when he was in his twenties. I don't come in here very often. It's creepy. All those eyes looking at me kind of reproachful-like and all."

"Yeah," Jo agreed. "Do you actually eat in here?"

"No," Theo laughed a little. "This room is strictly a museum piece. Nobody eats in there any more. We dine over there..."

He led her back into the hallway into a more informally styled room with a much smaller table and a doorway that led into the kitchen. Mrs. Onderkirk was standing at a counter with a butcher knife, slicing meat. She came to the doorway, the knife still in her hand. Jo's eyes grew wide.

"Hi again, Mrs. Onderkirk," Theo said genially. "Don't mind us. I'm just showing our guest around. Could you please make us some popcorn for the game?"

Jo's eyebrows sprang up before she could stop them. The last thing she could picture that woman doing was making popcorn. Yet Theo did not seem afraid of her.

"You'll have to make it yourself," she said curtly, eyeing Jo as if she had read her thoughts. "I got work to do here."

There actually was a microwave oven in the kitchen. Quite a big one. Wow.

"She'll make it," Theo assured Jo as they left the room. "She just likes to give me a hard time."

"I can see her wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron," Jo said. "Maybe you should bring her over too. She and Hannah might hit it off...not."

Theo laughed. "There's the downstairs bathroom," he said indicating a door to their left, "conveniently situated right next to the TV room. Here we are."

He opened the door to a den that did considerably cozier than the others, despite the too-high ceiling and some rather alarming African sculptures and tribal masks. There was a long low sofa and some deep chairs with jungle-print throws over them, and a quaint little fireplace with real logs. And a thick bear rug, more bookcases, and some more modern-looking paintings and knickknacks, along with a gorgeous tapestry depicting a number of jungle animals, all looking as though they were posing for a group photo.

"Now THIS room has my name on it," Jo said trying out one of the chairs, which was almost sinfully comfortable. "I may never get up again, even to go to the bathroom. Got any apples for roasting?"

"We've got apples, but we've never roasted any. I don't know if Mrs. Onderkirk would go for it."

"You call yourself a New Englander, and you've never roasted an _apple_? Bring some in here prontissimo, along with a couple of forked sticks. We roast them in the fireplace, not in the _oven_. Cripes, how _barbaric_!"

Theo laughed, and said he'd oblige. He put more wood on the fire, then turned on the TV, and before long Jo smelled popcorn. She was only mildly disappointed that Mrs. Onderkirk was not the evil housekeeper who would try to drive any perceived usurper of her beloved mistress to the brink of madness, after all.

The game was quite exciting, even though the watchers turned out to root for different teams. Jo placed bets on which would win. The loser would have to put on one of the tribal masks that hung on the wall and go down to the house of Mr. Throgmorton down at the end of the street after dark, knock on his door, and throw flour in his face, just like in _Meet Me in St. Louis_. Theo had never seen that movie, but he took her up on the offer, sight unseen.

"He's an awful old grump," Jo explained at half-time. "Once he bawled me out because I walked on his 'pretty green grass' when I was just cutting the corner, and said he'd have me arrested if I didn't stay off. Two measly steps, that's all I took. When it's warm out, he sits on his front porch all day glaring at everybody who passes by, with his little spit can on his lap. Last year at Halloween, I and Wendy Pinchbeck and a couple of other kids stuffed some old pairs of pants and shoes with hay and stuck them on his lawn with the legs sticking up, so it looked like their upper bodies were buried underground. Some were big people's pants and some were little kids'. And one was just a pair of pantyhose, with a pair of black lacy drawers on it. It was Wendy's idea, actually. She's my best friend, and she's just as crazy as I am. She moved away about five months ago. I miss her a lot." Jo sighed, not easy to do with her mouth stretched to its limit around a roasted apple.

"Who do you hang out with now?" Theo asked licking a bit of juice off his thumb.

"Oh, I have some other friends, mostly the girls on the basketball team. And Meg too. We get along pretty good most of the time, considering we're as different as apples and fly spray. I've really had the most fun with my sisters. Things are changing though. Meg doesn't want to do some of the kinds of things we used to do any more. The hormone fairy has got her. I'd like to squish the little bastard."

The game resumed. Theo must have been a little unprepared for how excited Jo got over games, even after all the stories she had told. When her team scored she rolled over on her back with her legs in the air, kicking wildly and going "Woooo HOOOOO!" and when her team went ahead she stood up on the sofa and jumped up and down in her sock feet, quite forgetting where she was. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Theo found himself whooping it up as well. When Mrs. Onderkirk peeped in to see what all the uproar was about, Jo waggled her fingers at the housekeeper and smiled impishly, and Theo invited her in to watch. However, she was obviously not a football fan either, and she went out looking as though she thought the entire world was going completely mad.

When Jo's team won, she jumped up and did a happy dance, and Theo watched her with a big grin on his face until she stopped, blushing a little.

"I get a little carried away sometimes," she said, "in case you, uh, didn't notice. Maybe it's my Hornet sweater. Brings out the cheerleader in me."

"So I guess I better go ask Mrs. Onderkirk for that flour," he said laughing.

"Ah, you don't have to," Jo said with a magnanimous wave of her hand. "I release you from our bet."

"Oh but I want to," Theo said. "This is the best time I've had all year. It really is, Jo. Might as well top it off by doing something totally insane...that won't land me into a big steaming pile of it. But it's not dark out yet, so you want to go down and inspect the dungeon now?"

He dropped his voice to an ominous undertone once more, so that her vivid imagination made her shiver a little.

"Of course, if you're scared..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ha! They don't call me 'Jo the Fearless' for nuttin'," she declared. He laughed.

"Right this way then," he said with a little jerk of his head. "The trapdoor is over here."

Actually the door was located under the staircase that went to the upper story. She followed him down a dimly lit stairway into a cellar where he flicked a switch so a bare bulb came on. He opened a door that creaked dreadfully on its hinges and stood aside so she could go in. She repressed a shiver to see some strange and sinister looking objects in corners of the room.

"There's the rack, the iron maiden, the thumbscrews...and the Pendulum," he said in a sepulchral whisper. "Sure you want to go in?"

For a moment she was all ready to turn back, then suddenly she groped beside the door and flipped a light switch. Fluorescent lighting flooded the room, revealing several exercise machines, and the "pendulum" turned out to be a trapeze. There were trampolines as well, a big one and a little one. A badminton net, basketball goals, and a good deal of athletic equipment hanging on the walls. She turned and gave him a little sock on the arm.

"You had me going there for a sec, you scamp," she said. He laughed. "Wow, I totally can't believe this. Your own gymnasium. Wow...just wow."

"You like it, do you?"

"Fabulous! Oh em gee-are those fencing foils I spy? I think I've just died and gone to heaven. Do you fence?"

"I have lessons, yes. You?"

"I've ALWAYS wanted to learn. Will you show me how? Pretty please?"

"Gladly. Here..." He took two foils from the wall, and handed one to her. Then he went to a cabinet and took out a mask and shield and gloves, and showed her how to put them on.

And he gave her her first fencing lesson.

"You catch on fast," he told her afterward. "Are you sure this was your first lesson?"

"Absolutely. I've watched fencing on TV, but that's it."

"You'll be kicking my butt pretty soon, at this rate."

"I doubt it." She grinned a little shyly. Her face felt very warm indeed. "I so envy you, living in this place. It's better than Disney World...not that I was ever there, or anything. I mean, this is _it_."

She wished she had not said that when she saw his face. Clearly he did not agree.

Open mouth, insert foot, she thought with a little sigh. This could get monotonous.

They went back upstairs, where he suddenly asked her if she wanted to hear one of his mother's CDs. She said sure, relieved that he was not put-out with her.

"They're in my bedroom," he said. "Up this way. Follow me."

"Umm...I don't think I better do that," she hedged, looked at the steep dark-carpeted stairway. "You might better bring them down here. Somebody might get the wrong idea. If Mrs. Onderkirk saw us..."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I don't want to stand in the way of you getting your horse back."

"Oh... Well, ok. The stereo down here is better than mine anyway. Much bigger speakers, and an awesome subwoofer. Plus my room looks like a bomb dropped in it."

He ran up the stairs lightly and she watched him until he disappeared into the upper hallway, then ambled into the front parlor, glancing around, looking at some more photos that hung on the wall. A portrait hanging over the mantelpiece in a gold-colored ornate frame showed an old man whom she had only glimpsed from a distance, yet she recognized him right off.

"So you're the Gramps," she said aloud, though still in an undertone, her hands clasped behind her back, her feet in a boyishly wide stance. "Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. You sure look a heck of a lot better close up than when I saw you last time. You're not half bad for an old guy. Bet you were quite the stud-muffin in your younger days, weren't you? Nice eyes you've got. Looks like you could use some of the starch taken out of you, though. I just bet I could do it, too. Gimme a couple days and I'll have you busting the moves on the table-top. Rock and roll hoochie coo!"

She giggled and did a little bump and grind, throwing her arms out far and wide.

"Think so, do you?" a voice behind her asked. It was not Theo's.

She whirled around, and then screamed.


	8. Visitors, Welcome and Otherwise

8. Visitors, Welcome and Otherwise

Mr. Laurence stood with his arms folded, in his loose-fitting slacks and heavy brown sweater and carpet slippers. She stood there with both hands clamped tightly over her mouth, her eyes darting from him to the portrait to the doorway. For the life of her she didn't know whether to stand still, run, or faint.

She thought of faking a heart attack, but decided it wouldn't fool him any. He clearly did not look like he had just fallen off the turnip truck, as Aunt Martha liked to say.

"So you think I'm not bad looking for an old guy, do you?" he demanded. She nodded, still with her hands trying absurdly to stuff the words back into her mouth, her eyes huge. "Quite the, er, stud-muffin? in my younger days, was I?"

She said, "Oh yes sir, indeed!" but since her hands were still over her mouth, the words were not exactly clear to him. However, he seemed assured that she had answered in the affirmative.

"And I need the starch taken out of me, do I? And you think you could take it out of me?"

Jo moved her hands far enough from her mouth enough to say, "Oh sir, I didn't mean it quite that way. I-I-I have...a rather-unorthopedic way of putting things sometimes. I didn't really mean anything by it, sir, I..."

She thought "unorthopedic" was not quite the word she intended, but so flustered was she that the right one wouldn't come to her.

"And you'd have me dancing the hoochie-coochie on the table-tops?" he said. It was then she saw the twinkle in his dark grey eyes, and in vast relief, she smiled.

"Well, actually I don't know exactly what the hoochie-coochie is, sir," she said. "I know it's a dance of some sort-it's in that song 'Meet Me in St. Louis' in a movie I like a lot. It goes 'We will dance the hoochie coochie, and I'll be your tootsy wootsy'...but I've never seen it done, that I know of. But if I did know how to do it, I'm reasonably sure I could teach it to you, even though dancing is not truly among my talents. I'm sure you're a fast learner. I can tell by your eyes."

She had found that sometimes if she just kept babbling, it could diffuse a person's disfavor, if only by confusion. Mr. Laurence looked straight at her for a moment, then suddenly he roared with laughter.

"I'll bet you could," he said, his eyes glittering with amusement. "You're the March girl, right?"

"I'm _one_ of the March girls, sir," she said sticking her hand out to him, then wondering if that were really the right thing to do. "There are four of us-well, five if you count my mom. I'm Jodie, but everyone calls me Jo."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Jo," he said grasping her hand firmly. "Theodore told me about you last night. I don't know if you're aware of it, but I knew your grandfather on your mother's side. We were army buddies, and I got into a merry scrape or two with him. He was a very brave fellow, intelligent, resourceful, fun to be with, and an excellent friend. I can see already that you take after him in many ways, although unfortunately he was killed in Vietnam long before you were born. I wish you could have known him."

"Me too. Could you tell me more about him, sir? My mom was just a baby when he was killed, and Aunt Patty is only two years older, so she doesn't remember much either, only what Grandma told them, and she's dead now too. In fact, I'd like you to have dinner with us tonight, if you don't mind, sir. I bet she'd love to hear some stories about him. We live just across the street."

"I know you do, my dear. I should have called on you long before, but I've gotten into a habit of not getting out much. I'm what's commonly known as a workaholic, and a bit of a recluse. But I'd be glad to come, if your mother doesn't mind. So how do you like this boy of mine, eh?"

Just then she glimpsed Theo standing in the middle of the stairway, and she wondered how much of their exchange he had witnessed.

"I like him a lot, sir," she said. "He's a real kick in the-um, I mean, he's a real fun guy. I just know we're going to be great friends."

"Hmm," the old man said. She wondered what he meant by that, and started to ask, when he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at his grandson still standing on the stairs. "Theodore," he said, "what do you mean by running off and leaving our visitor alone to shift for herself? Aren't you afraid the monster from the cellar might break out of his cage and eat her up? Come on down, why don't you."

Jo laughed shakily. Then she realized Theo was hesitant because of the CDs he held, remembering how he had said his grandfather couldn't abide his mother.

"It's all right, Theodore," Mr. Laurence said kindly. "I know what it is you've got in your hand. Come on down, my lad. I promise not to sic the beast on you this time."

Theo came down a little hesitantly. "I just went to get something from my room, Granddad," he said. "She didn't want anybody to get the wrong idea, so she didn't come up with me."

"Good girl," Mr. Laurence said. "I like your new friend. She's a pistol. Did you know she's invited us to dinner tonight?"

"Yes sir, of course I knew it. So you're coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China, as we used to say. It's a pretty sad state of affairs when neighbors don't know each other. I can remember when we would have been in and out of each other's houses all week long. Well, I guess it's not over til the fat lady sings, what?"

Jo barely heard his remarks, for something outside had caught her eye. She went to the window for a closer look.

"Oh. My. Gawd," she said as she saw the silver Porsche pull into the March driveway. "I see it, but I don't believe it. I don't ef-believe it. Of all the..."

Theo came up behind her. "Who's that?"

"That's Eddy Moffat's car," she said. "Can you believe the nerve of him?"

Theo made a slight growling noise. "Come on," he said grabbing her wrist. "Oh wait, better get our coats. Just a sec..."

"What's going on?" Mr. Laurence said as his grandson stepped into the cloakroom.

"Did Theo tell you what happened at the party last night?" Jo asked him.

"Your sister had an accident, did she? How is she now?"

"Not so bad. But that's one of the ones who...caused her accident," Jo said. Obviously Theo had not told him everything.

"Here, Jo," Theo said tossing her jacket to her and then yanking on his own. Before Mr. Laurence could reprove him for his lack of manners, both youngsters were out the door.

"Can you _believe_ the nerve of him?" Jo said again between clenched teeth as she and Theo trotted across the street. "Dang, we should have brought those foils with us."

"Curses-foiled again," Theo said in a nasal cartoony voice. "That's ok, we don't need 'em. We can kick his scummy ass without."

"I'd still like to see the look on his face," she said as Eddy hesitantly stood before the porch steps, obviously trying to work up his nerve. Now _that _was something to see, cocky ol' Ed being all hesitant and everything. She barely repressed a snort and broke into a run, Theo sprinting close behind. Eddy turned then. He was holding a long-stemmed crimson rosebud, like he was the Phantom of the Opera or something.

"Yo there!" Jo yelled as she rushed forward to confront the enemy. "Well well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy. What in the whiskey tango foxtrot do you call yourself doing? Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

"I just came to see how Meg was," he said so meekly it fairly took Jo's breath away. "I'm not here to make trouble. Is she ok?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you, scuzzbucket," Jo retorted. "Now you know, so you can stuff your gluteous maximus in your sun-chariot and scoot on back to Olympus. Move along, buster, if you know what's good for you. So you thought you could get your slimy meathooks on my sis, did you?"

"You talk pretty tough when you got somebody backing you up, don't you," Eddy said with a hint of a smile, glancing at Theo. "It's all right, Jo, really. I came to apologize to Meg for all that bullcrap last night. I'd have come much earlier, but I've felt like holy hell all day. Didn't even wake up till almost noon."

"Awww, poor baby had a hangover," Jo said. "Gee, what a cryin' shame."

"Darlin', my hangover had a hangover," Eddy said, and he started to laugh and then winced. "I'm still not exactly feeling like ten million bucks. Feel free to treat yourself to a good gloat. But I still need to explain a few things to Meg."

"I guess you're going to deny your part in that little scheme of your sisters'?" Theo asked him.

"I had nothing to do with any of that," Eddy said, "whether you believe me or not. I like Meg...a lot. I'd never do a thing like that to her. Why would I? I don't even believe Anne and Bella were up to any such thing. They like Meg too. That little raisin-sack concocted the whole thing out of his geeky little head just to try to ruin their reputation, that's what I think, and if he wasn't such a pathetic little weasel I'd go stomp on his pimples for him. Now if you guys will excuse me, I'd really like to speak to Meg now."

Just then the door opened and Hannah poked her head out. A smell of roast pork escaped from around her.

"What's up?" she asked.

"How do you do, Mrs. March," Eddy said, suave as all get-out. "I'm Edward Moffat and I know your daughter Meg. May I please speak to her?"

"She ain't my daughter and Mrs. March ain't in, but I'll ask her," Hannah said. "She's laid up with a hurt ankle at the moment and can't come to the door, or at least she shouldn't, but I'd ask her if she's up to having a visitor. One moment."

She closed the door. Eddy turned to look at Jo and Theo.

"Well Jo, looks like you hit the jackpot," he said with a wink. "I didn't even know you were into guys. Guess I was wrong, what? Got yourself a boyfriend with a fat bank account and everything. I bet your mom is tickled pink."

"Leave my mom out of it, buttwipe," Jo said, her face so hot she thought it would melt the snow off the roof in another moment, and she actually made a fist.

Theo made a move toward Eddy, but just then the door opened again and Hannah said, "She says you can come in for a minute. Right this way. Jo, you all right? You look like you got a fever, hon."

Eddy entered the house. Jo jerked her head at Theo indicating he was to come in also. He followed her inside. Meg was still on the couch with her foot propped up, a book in her hands, her hair bound in a neatly messy pony tail with a red scrunchy.

"Hi Meg," Eddy said with a touch of shamefacedness that might have tickled Jo under different circumstances. "How's your ankle?"

"Better than this morning," she said almost inaudibly, with a shrug. "What are you doing here?"

"I felt like I need to set a few things straight," he said, stepping forward and extending the rose to her. When she didn't take it, he laid it on the sofa beside her. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Suit yourself," Meg said without looking directly at him.

"Want us to leave?" Jo asked her.

"No, you can stay," Meg said. "Hi, Theo."

"Hi, Meg," Theo said.

Without taking off his jacket, Eddy sat down gingerly on one of the chairs as though he thought there might be a whoopee cushion on it. Pity there wasn't, thought Jo.

"Guess I should come right to the point," Eddy said after a moment, glancing sidelong at Jo and Theo, who were still standing. "I know you've heard that...little rumor about how I...well..."

"And?" Meg lifted her eyebrows.

"I just wanted you to know there's no truth to it," he said all in a rush with his blue-green eyes all wide and boyishly earnest in that way that seldom failed to win over the girls. "I know I've got my faults, but I'm not a complete bastard. I like you a lot, Meg. A whole lot. I've always liked you, even though I knew you didn't like me. Guess I don't deserve to have you like me. I didn't try like I should have, 'cause I thought you might come to like me the way I was. I mean, everybody loves a bad boy, right? But I'd never do a thing like that to you. Ever. I wish you'd believe me. I'd like to ask you out, but I guess your mom wouldn't hear of it now, would she? I'd like you to be my girlfriend. Yes, really. I don't care about any girls but you. But I guess it's not gonna happen. You're a nice girl, I'm me, 'nuff said. So. I'll be going now. I did what I came to do, and now I'll get out of here and leave you alone. I'm sorry about what happened. Well. I'm outa here. Goodbye, Meg."

"Goodbye, Eddy," she said as he stood up. She did not move from where she sat, and he looked at her obviously hoping she would ask him to stay. When she did not, he abruptly turned and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Theo immediately went out after him. Curious, Jo followed.

"Just a second," Theo called to Eddy as he was getting into the Porsche. "You owe Jo an apology too. For what you said a while ago. That was a shitty thing to say to her."

"Hey man, I don't begrudge her," Eddy said holding out a hand palm upward in a placatory gesture. He seemed really anxious to leave. "Oh, all right. Sorry, Jo. What can I say, I'm a prick. I'll get the hell out of your life now, and you won't have to deal with my prickiness any more."

His voice actually shook a little. He slammed the car door, popped in the key and turned on the ignition, nearly knocking over the mailbox as he backed out, and sped away in the falling dusk.

"Well," Theo said clearing his throat, "guess I better get on back. Thanks for coming over, Jo. I had a great time. I hope you'll come again."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" Jo said.

"Well. If you still want me to."

"'Course I do. Why wouldn't I? That roast pork is big enough for us all, I'm sure. Let's go tell your granddad, 'k?"

"Ok."

As they headed out, on a thought Jo glanced over her shoulder toward the window. And saw that Meg had picked up the rosebud and was touching the petals with a fingertip.

"Damn and blast!" Jo said under her breath.

ooooo

"This is the best meal I've had since the Gulf War," Mr. Laurence said as Hannah brought in the chocolate pecan pie. "I don't dish out compliments freely, either. Charm has never been one of my shortcomings. It was an excellent roast, and the mashed potatoes and gravy and brown bread were supreme, and as for the squash cheese casserole... I love plain fare, believe it or not. There's nothing on my home menu that I can't pronounce. That's why I have Mrs. Onderkirk. Good old plain Dutch cooking. Yet she's no better than you are, Hannah."

"Ah, go on with ya," Hannah said, and she blushed and giggled like a young girl. Amy snickered. Beth smiled shyly.

"By the way," Mr. Laurence said, as Hannah sliced the pie and laid a piece on each plate, "Jo tells me you folks know Theodore's tutor, John Brooke. He goes to your church, doesn't he?"

"He plays the organ," Meg said. She had been strangely quiet all through the meal. But she looked up with interest when John Brooke's name was mentioned.

"Of course he does," Mr. Laurence said. "Well. Jo says Beth here plays the piano, what?"

"She does, and very well," Hannah said smiling proudly at Beth, who ducked her head once more.

"Well, I have a proposal," Mr. Laurence said. "John says he'd like to give her lessons, but her mother couldn't afford it, and wouldn't allow him to teach her for nothing. So here's my plan. Let Beth come over and help Mrs. Onderkirk in the kitchen for about half an hour each day, and one hour on weekends. As payment, John gives her a lesson per week, and she can use our piano, seeing as how yours has seen better days, as Jo says. How does that sound?"

"Fine, if Mrs. March is agreeable to it," Hannah said. "She'll be home from work in about two more hours, you can ask her then."

"I just will, then," Mr. Laurence. Beth looked anxiously at him. "Mrs. Onderkirk is known to bark, but she doesn't bite," he assured her as though he had read her thought. "So, no need to fear her. In the meantime, Beth, come over any time and practice, if you like. You can come in the side door, the one behind that big bush. No one will bother you if I tell them not to. Jo will show you where it is. I'll give you the passcode, if you promise not to ever give it to anyone but your mother, how's that?"

"That would be wonderful, sir," Beth spoke up, much to Jo's surprise. "Thank you _so much_! This is the happiest day of my life."

"Not a bit of it," he said, looking softly at her. "Would you like me to tell you whom you remind me of? My little daughter Elizabeth. She passed away when she was about your age. Your eyes are so much like hers, it's positively uncanny. Your name is even Elizabeth too, isn't it?"

Jo realized then why Elizabeth had looked so familiar to her.

"Um, no sir, it's Bethany," Beth said looking as though she feared he would withdraw his offer, if he found out her name was not Elizabeth, yet honor-bound to tell him the truth. "They were going to name me Elizabeth after my grandma, but decided on 'Bethany' instead at the last minute, my mom says. So I was _almost_ named Elizabeth. I'm sorry you lost your little girl, sir. Was she called Beth too?"

"No, my dear," he said. "She was always just Elizabeth. We called her Little Bit sometimes when she was tiny, but when she got bigger she didn't want to be called that any more, so we stopped. She played the piano and sang too. Such a joy she was to have around. She was always wanting to give parties for people who didn't have much money, like in a book she loved-can't remember the title now, but it was her favorite. Then she contracted a rare blood disease the doctors didn't know how to cure, and just like the child in that book, she left us..."

"_The Birds' Christmas Carol_!" cried Beth sitting up straight in her chair. "I love that story too!"

Mr. Laurence nodded, then cleared his throat a little and took a quick bite of pie. "Scrumptious," he said softly after swallowing, with some difficulty.

As he and Theo were taking their leave, he invited all of them to the house. "It's rather a dreary old place," he said, "which is largely my own fault. But if Jo could bring so much sunlight to it in one day, just think how all of you young ladies put together could lighten it up. It will be full of life and joy once more. I greatly look forward to that."

Beth did a happy dance up on the sofa after he left, and Jo danced with her all over the room, at one point whisking her up in the air over a small table, like she used to do when Beth was little, sending Mimi scampering down the hall in alarm. Mrs. March consented to the plan, after being assured that Beth would earn her lessons.

"Don't _I _get to do anything?" Amy said watching enviously, to the point where she was actually distracted from the TV set.

"You could copy the paintings, Ms. Picasso," Jo said breathlessly, flopping down on a chair, Beth falling into her lap, giggling. Jo tickled her under the arms. "I think Mr. Laurence has a genuine Renoir in his study. And some mighty fine prints in the company room. And some sculptures like you wouldn't believe. The place has more rocks than a frikkin' graveyard."

"Sa-WEET!" Amy said. And she was in such a delightful mood for the rest of the evening, Jo felt like thwapping her a good one at times.

She did not see the rosebud again, and she wondered what Meg had done with it. But she decided not to ask, although it took a massive amount of willpower to refrain.

"Get away from me, hormone fairy, you pernicious little maggot," she muttered later in the night, when Meg had fallen asleep in the bed next to hers, "before I take a can of Raid to ya. First you screw things up with Meg, and now you want to ruin _my_ life too. Well, I won't have it, you hear me? Scram! Don't you know when you're not welcome?"


	9. Borrowing Elizabeth

9. Borrowing Elizabeth

"Don't you think Theo is HOT?" Amy said at breakfast. "He's _dreamy_. Did you _see_ those eyes of his?"

Jo let her own eyes roll up, then yawned. Meg was out of sorts, heavy-eyed and a bit snappish. Beth sat with a beatific smile in anticipation of her first piano lesson in years. She hardly even noticed when Mimi jumped up into her lap and lapped at her cereal.

Amy was a live wire this morning. She chattered at length about nothing at all, blew bubbles in her orange juice, and at one point reached into the sugar bowl and fished out a lump of sugar which she placed on the tip of her tongue, then drew into her mouth.

"Aren't you a bit young to be interested in boys?" Mrs. March chided her youngest daughter.

"I'm _not_," Amy said, lifting a spoon of Honey Bunches of Oats and contemplating it with crossed eyes. "Boys are the scum of the earth. But Theo's not a boy, he's a _guy_."

"Sometimes I think the hormone fairy was aiming at me and got you instead," Jo said with a little snort.

"Does seem that way, doesn't it?" Hannah said. "My advice, little lady, is not to grow up before your time. Be a kid as long as you can, because once that's gone, it's gone."

"Why?" Amy demanded. "Being a kid sucks."

"It's getting old that sucks," Hannah said.

"You must have totally forgot what it's like to be young," Amy said.

"You're not old, Hannah," Beth said coming out of her cloud-castle momentarily.

"I'm forty-seven and sometimes I feel sixty," Hannah said. "Meg, are you ok, hon? How's the ankle?"

"A little better," Meg said. "I can walk on it now if I keep the brace on. Are we going to the Laurences' this afternoon or what?"

"Of course," Jo said. "They're having a little housewarming party there just for us, didn't they tell you? We talked about it last night."

"Guess I wasn't paying attention," Meg admitted.

Jo wondered if she were mooning over Eddy Moffat. This was not the Meg she had thought she knew, by a long shot. It was depressing. Wasn't there _any_ way to turn the clock back?

"Mr. Laurence told you were the finest bunch of little women he ever met," Mrs. March said smiling. "I was so proud of all of you."

"_What_?" Amy exclaimed. "We're not _little_, and we're certainly not women either...except for maybe Meg. Women have _boobs._"

"Amy!" her mother said in a protesting tone, and Hannah barely stopped suppressed a belly laugh.

Jo laughed hard enough for both of them.

Meg and Beth smiled a little. Amy pouted because as usual _no one_ was taking her seriously.

"I must admit," their mother said, "that I have misgivings about this whole thing. They do seem very nice folks. But in the first place, I don't like the idea of taking favors from them that we can't pay back. For another, I'm afraid we may start taking advantage of them before we realize it. Forgive me if I'm going all buzzkill on you, but-"

"But Mom," Jo cut in, "he said that _we_ were the ones helping _him,_ remember? That we were going to fill the house all full of laughter and joy and all that happy hoss crap. A collective Little Mary Sunshine. So. Let's just up and _do_ it already. I, for one, can't wait to get my next fencing lesson. _Engarde_!"

She made a little parry and thrust with the handle of her spoon, nearly upsetting her juice glass. Beth smiled radiantly at her as though she had just been paid a compliment.

"I can't wait to see Elizabeth's room," she said. She had eaten very little of her breakfast in her excitement. "Mr. Laurence said I could. I'm just _dying_ to. And of course there's the _piano. _Although I don't see how I dare touch it. What if I drop something on it, or something?"

"I want to see those Chinese vases," Amy said. "And the jade carvings, and stuff. I'm on an oriental kick today. And the trunks up in the attic. I bet they're filled with all kinds of neat doodads. Maybe they'll give us some."

"I'd like to watch those tapes of Broadway musicals," Meg said. "It might be the next best thing to seeing them live. Maybe they'll take us to New York to see one sometime?"

Jo felt relieved to hear her sounding more like her pre-Moffat self.

"I'll admit I'm anxious to hear Mr. Laurence tell about your grandfather," Mrs. March said. "I'd love to hear all about his adventures. But I just can't help but worry about what Theo told us about his past. I know it's not his fault he comes from a dysfunctional family. But such people tend to have baggage that's hard, if not impossible, to get rid of, and getting involved with them involves great risk. I remember my first boyfriend came from a broken home and his mother was an alcoholic. He had so many emotional problems, it got so I just couldn't deal with it any more, and had to break it off with him. He was none too happy about that, and made some ugly threats, until we had to take out a restraining order on him. Last I heard of him, he had become a drug addict and been married three times, and ended up in prison. Yes, your father had that gambling addiction, and he was able to overcome it. Unfortunately, he's the exception and not the rule."

"Mom, you said yesterday you were going to stop being such a worry-wart," Amy said with a pained expression.

"Yeah," Jo said. "And that we were to help you and all that. Come on, you met Theo. He _rocks_, don't you think? And I told you how his granddad came up on me saying all kinds of ridiculous things to his portrait, and he was totally cool with it. Most old men would have drop-kicked me into the stratosphere."

"We _will_ get to go, won't we, Momma?" Beth pleaded. "_Pleeeeeeease_?"

"I _promise_ I won't do anything stupid," Meg said. "I'm all done with that sort of thing."

Mrs. March laughed ruefully.

"What chance do I stand against the lot of you?" she said. "But I don't want to hear of any of you bragging about how we're hobnobbing with rich folks and all that nonsense. The Laurences are not prize horses for us to flaunt before our peers, either to impress them or to put their noses out of joint. They are our friends, and nothing more."

"As _if_," Amy said, although she had just been about to say that Jennifer Snowden would throw up with envy when she heard about the Marches' friendship with the Laurences.

An hour later they were all gathered at the big house across the street, where they found Theo playing jazz piano in the library.

"You're early!" he yelled, rushing to the door to help Mrs. Onderkirk take wraps and hang them up. Mr. Laurence appeared on the stairway, neatly dressed but a little overwhelmed.

Jo soon came to find that the animal heads in the dining room had been taken down and carried up to the attic.

"Granddad's going to have it redone," Theo explained, "so we can have some _real_ dinner parties in there. You might have noticed that he took those heavy drapes from the windows too. Cool, huh?"

Jo prevailed on him to play some more jazz. As he did so, Amy snapped her fingers and wiggled her shoulders and hips in time to the music, while the others stood about in awe and delight at Theo's obvious talent. Jo tapped Beth on the shoulder and pointed at the pictures of Elizabeth. Beth stared at them with wide eyes. She picked up each one on the table and gazed until the music ended, then she looked up and saw Mr. Laurence watching her, and she set it down again with a guilty expression. But he only smiled, while the others applauded Theo.

"Wanna try out the piano now, Bethy?" Theo asked her, startling her.

"Um...I don't think I could possibly play after _that_," she hedged. "I'd just sound like...like _nothing_. Do you have lessons from Mr. Brooke too?"

"I've never had piano lessons," Theo said. "I play by ear. My mom tried to teach me when I was a kid, but she soon gave it up saying I was hopeless."

"That sure didn't sound hopeless to me," she said. "That was _fabulous_."

After a while they went down cellar to see the gymnasium, then up to Mr. Laurence's study to see the Renoir and other lesser art pieces, and after they had toured the entire house, Mr. Laurence said Beth might see Elizabeth's room.

"I think it best you young ladies see it one at a time," he said softly. "I don't wish too many people in it at once. The rest of you may go downstairs if they like, or sit on the chairs in the hallway, or whatever you like, until your times come. Beth, you may be the first."

Beth fairly trembled. "Are you sure I should go in?" she whispered.

"Only if you truly want to," Mr. Laurence said. "If you're frightened, or if you feel uncomfortable, then I won't be offended if you don't wish to go in this time."

"I do," Beth said. "When I looked at her pictures downstairs, it was like I _knew_ her from somewhere. It was almost like...like I was _her_. I know that sounds awful silly. But it was like she was looking right back at me, and inviting me to...something, I don't know. But I would love to see her room now, Mr. Laurence."

"Then come this way," he said. And he took her hand and led her down the hallway, and opened a door on the opposite wing from Theo's room. Jo stood off at a discreet distance, watching to make sure Beth didn't get swallowed up by the room or something, while the others quietly went back downstairs.

Beth stood in the doorway just looking in.

"I've kept it exactly the way it was when she left us," Mr. Laurence said. "Except for her dolls. She wanted them all given to children who had none. But I kept one of them-the one that was made to look like her. There she is lying on the bed."

Beth just stood still, without going into the room. It had wallpaper with tiny pink roses on it, ruffled white curtains at the windows, gauzy ruffles and lace on the bed coverlet, a dark pink oval rug beside the bed. There was a little vanity table with a comb and hairbrush, a little cologne bottle and a little trinket box, and two little lamps that were turned on. And a bud vase with one pink rose in it, a real one. There was a bookcase with three shelves all full of books, with some knickknacks sitting on top of it and on the dresser also, which was of wood painted white. To a stranger it might have looked like any well-to-do little girl's bedroom, but to Beth it was as a holy shrine. Especially since there was a little oil painting of Elizabeth hanging over the headboard, which was a simple brass one, a sparkly pink bow tied to one of the posts. It was only when she noticed this portrait that Beth ventured into the room to have a closer look.

She stood gazing up at it with her hands clasped behind her back.

"She seems to know me," she said just above a whisper.

"She was a kindred spirit," Mr. Laurence suggested.

Beth nodded. Then she glanced over toward the bookcase, almost as if Elizabeth had told her to look at it. And she gasped and sprang toward it, and started to take out one of the books, until she remembered herself, jerked her hand away as if the book had burned her, then put both hands behind her back, looking guiltily at Mr. Laurence once more.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to touch her things. I just...well, that's the book we talked about yesterday. _The Birds' Christmas Carol_. You know?"

"Go ahead and pick it up," he said gently. She smiled just a flicker of a smile, and took the slender volume, careful not to touch the others.

"Oh, _wow_," she breathed as she opened the cover. "How beautiful! Just look at these _pictures_. Oh, _wow_."

"It's a very old copy," he said. "I'm amazed it's in such good condition, considering how often she read it. She was very careful with her things, especially her books."

"I never had a copy of my own," Beth said. "I used to check it out from the library, but it isn't there any more. I don't know what happened to it. I just _love_ this story. You've read it, sir?"

"She read it to me every Christmas Eve." He looked away, clearing his throat and looking down the hallway as if to see if anyone else was watching. "I tell you what, Bethy. If you love it so much, then it's yours."

"Oh sir, I couldn't take her book from you! If I could just come here and read it sometimes, that would be good enough for me."

"No no no no no, books are meant to be _read_, my dear. Not kept unopened on a shelf out of sentiment. Take it with you, and treasure it. It will be the next best thing to having her back again. You can do that much for me, can't you, my child?"

"Thank you _so much_!" she cried, and she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "I will take the best care of it _ever_."

And then, wiping away a tear or two, she picked up the book once more and hugged it to herself.

"Another thing," he said, clearing his throat once more. "This room gets a bit...dusty. The maid who used to keep it up moved away to get married almost a year ago, and I don't trust any others to do the job. I've actually been coming in here to do it myself, but it's a little too emotionally wrenching for me. Would you like to have the job of dusting the room, Bethy? I'll give you ten dollars to come once a week to do it. You can do so after you're done helping Mrs. Onderkirk if you like."

"Oh, of COURSE I would! And you don't have to pay me a single penny, sir-I'll do it for free. I will consider it a...a privilege. And you gave me this book, that's plenty payment."

"Wait, I've something else of hers you can have," he said. "It's just some old music books. Someone should get some use out of them. Here..."

He opened a closet door, and she could see it was quite a large closet indeed. No clothes hung in it-she guessed that Elizabeth must have stipulated that her clothes be given to the poor as well. But there was something big at the back of it, covered with a sheet. On top stood a stack of books, and he took these and came out, closing the door behind him.

"Here you go," he said. "I'll take them down for you. This way."

Amy, it turned out, didn't want to see the room-the thought of going into a dead person's room spooked her out, she confided to her mother. They found Meg and Jo and Amy and Mrs. March and Theo in the den watching a performance of the stage version of _The Lion King_, and eating pizza that Theo had sent out for.

"Look what I got," Amy said after Beth had showed everyone her book, holding up a garment of gold silk printed with scarlet poppies and green leaves and blue butterflies. "Theo said I could have it. His mom wore it when she played Madame Butterfly. It's way too big for me now, but I'll grow into it."

"Amy, how GORGEOUS!" cried Beth, taking the kimono and holding it up to the light. Theo grinned.

"Check this out," Jo said displaying a samurai sword. "Guess Madame Butterfly offed herself with this bad boy...It's ok, Mom, it's not sharp. More's the pity," she added under her breath.

"No, she didn't," Mr. Laurence said. "Only men used those for the purpose of committing ritual suicide. The women used a small dagger, and cut their throats. I did see a performance once in which Madama Butterfly used such a sword, but it was entirely inaccurate, and I let them know it."

"I still like it," Jo said giving it a little twirl like she had seen on TV.

"Cool!" Beth said. "Meg, did you get something too?...Meg?"

"You called?" Meg said emerging smiling from the bathroom door...clad in a cobalt-blue Chinese-style silk gown with gold and and purple and scarlet dragons printed all over it. She had pinned up her hair in a reasonable fascimile of a Chinese coiffure. "From Turandot's line of winter fashions," she said with a dramatic flourish, twirling herself about.

"They're all magnificent," Beth said, "but I'd rather have my book than all the beautiful costumes in the whole wide world."

After the excitement had simmered down a bit, Theo put on some very upbeat dance music on the stereo, and Amy jumped up and began to dance with such great exuberance and abandon, that Jo laid down the sword and got up and danced with her. Meg, after only a moment's hesitation, joined in, still wearing the Chinese gown, and then Theo too. Beth stood between her mother and Mr. Laurence watching, her new book still clasped to her bosom...and then after a long moment, she asked her mother to hold the book, and joined the dance.

Mr. Laurence and Mrs. March stood watching and smiling as though loss and envy and strife were things that belonged to the year that had been left behind them, flung into a bonfire of forgetfulness.

ooooo

In the next few days, Beth could hardly keep from thinking about Elizabeth. It was all of two hours before she could work up the nerve to go to the Laurence house to play their piano, but she finally managed, and then the lessons began in earnest as soon as Mr. Brooke came back from visiting his mother. After the lesson she would go up to Elizabeth's room, and when she had finished dusting it she would sit on the chair in the room and just look around. Occasionally she would take one of the books and look at it, careful to put it back exactly where it had been. Sometimes she would sit on the bed and hold the doll and look at it and then at the portrait, trying to imagine what it was like for Elizabeth in her illness, when she knew she was dying, wondering if she had been afraid, or concerned about what her family members would do without her, and if she looked forward to going up to heaven where her mom was and all. Or wondered why it was she had to die so young.

Other times Beth wondered about the closet, what it was she had glimpsed inside it, covered with the sheet, and she thought she knew, but she did not open the door, feeling it was not her place to do so. She did not even allow herself to stay in the room for more than five minutes after dusting, fearing to profane it with too much occupance. It was as if she were wearing an Elizabeth costume, allowing herself to play the role for a tiny space in time. Borrowing Elizabeth, trying her best to absorb the qualities that had made her so beloved and long remembered. But only for a short time. She felt it would not do to linger too long, until she lost the connection between waking and dreaming, her feet forgetting the bridge, suspended in Elizabeth's realm.

And after a week she asked her mother to listen to something she had written and tell her if it was "worthy" of her benefactor. As she played, her mother's eyes grew wide indeed, and told Beth all she needed to know.

"Do you think it's ok to call it 'Elizabeth'?" she asked anxiously. "Maybe that would be too...too personal. I think I'll just call it 'My Dream' or 'Heart's Desire' or something like that. What do you think? I wish I could put words to it, but that's just not my _thing_."

One Sunday evening she put on her best dress and slipped over to the Laurences', timidly calling to the old man to hear something she had made for him. And she played it, with the snow falling outside in the gathering dusk, and candles burning on either side of the music rack, along with one of the small photos from the table that stood beneath Elizabeth's portrait. Scarves of sound and cinders of gladness floated up from beneath the gleaming lid of the great instrument to lose themselves in the crystal chandeliers above, for the space of but a few minutes, yet it seemed that eternity made itself a guest that night.

One Saturday afternoon, her sisters insisted on dragging her to the mall, where Meg had gotten a part-time job in a clothing boutique, and although Beth had not much wanted to come, she began to enjoy herself, especially when they sat at one of the eateries and bought donuts, then went to see a movie. For a while she felt not like Beth, frightened of all but those closest to her, but a regular person out enjoying herself like any other with her sisters and friends (for Emily and Faith had come along). And she wondered if Elizabeth had anything to do with that. After the movie, Amy bought a small bracelet, which was all any of them bought other than the donuts and movie tickets, and they were ready to go home.

As Hannah drove them home, Beth began to feel like they had a secret, but she could hardly think what it could be, or why she should be left out of it, and she finally decided she was imagining things. They talked of the movie, and she said little, her thoughts straying to Elizabeth once more, until they got home, after dropping off Emily and Faith at their homes. At first it looked like nobody was in. The lights were off in the front room, and the porch light was on, just as it always was at night when no one was home.

Hannah unlocked the front door, saying, "Hmm, wonder what's up here. Your mother didn't tell me she was going anywhere." Then suddenly the lights came on, and Jo and Meg grabbed Beth's arms and steered her into the dining room where the piano was...only it was gone! Something stood in its place, covered with a sheet. She looked at her sisters and mother in bewilderment, and Jo told her to close her eyes. She did so, and Meg clapped her hands over them just to be sure she wouldn't peek. She heard stifled giggles and whispers, then Amy said, "You can look now."

And Beth looked, and saw that Theo and Mr. Laurence had come in the room also, smiling, and then she let out a squeak that could likely be heard all over the block. And she knew then, as she had known all along, what had been in Elizabeth's closet with the sheet over it all that time.


	10. Progress Reports

10. Progress Reports

"All in all, I'd say this is the best winter vacation we've ever had," Jo said as she sat at the breakfast table. "Which makes it all the harder to go back to school today."

Memories of the past two weeks danced in her mind. Fencing lessons, playing dress-up with Theo's mother's opera costumes, tobogganing on the hill, ice skating, snowball fights, telling scary stories by the fireside while drinking cider syllabubs and eating s'mores and popcorn and other goodies, pranking Mr. Throgmorton and other curmudgeonly neighbors, playing games, including one Jo had made up, in which one is given a place name, and must come up with as many rhymes as possible. "If you go to New York, you must take a fork to eat all your pork or you'll look like a dork with legs like a stork" or "If you go to Mississippi, you'll fall in the river and get drippy, and you'll feel very dippy, not to mention quite trippy"... Jo had been best at it, but she came to find that Theo could give her a run for the money, much to her delight. Beth was so thrilled with her new piano, she fairly glowed everywhere she went, and found herself somewhat less inclined to hide from people, even smiling at strangers when out in public with her sisters.

But, it had to end sometime, and now Jo found herself faced with the dreary business of keeping a certain resolution she almost wished she had not made: that of apologizing to Darcy Evans. She rather wished she had done it the day she made the resolution, for then it would have been over and done with. But she didn't know where Darcy lived, and there were umpty-ump Evanses in the phone book, and calling up to apologize would have been very uncool. So she would just have to wait until school started.

It should have come as no surprise, when she arrived at school, how _niiiice_ the girls in her classes were to her. Particularly the prettier girls, the more popular girls, the more well-to-do girls. Girls who had barely acknowledged her existence just the previous semester. Oh, but they were _sooo_ nice. Butter wouldn't melt in their little mouths. How touching it all was, she thought with a smug little grin, as one of them actually stooped to pick up a book she had dropped, another complimented her on how pretty her hair looked-wow, why hadn't anybody ever noticed before?-and still another congratulated her on putting that nasty little Robby Blayne in his place. She was their hero after this. Oh yes.

Funny, not a one of them mentioned Theo. They weren't _that_ crass, golly gee.

Jo glanced around for Darcy, half hoping she wouldn't be there, that she had moved away, changed schools, whatever. But, drat the luck, there she was in phys. ed. class, as the girls got into their gym suits, complaining about how ugly the suits were, how the gym teacher played favorites, and how they hadn't wanted to come back to school after their long-awaited winter break, and so on and so forth. Jo had planned out a nice little speech, rehearsed in her mind what she would say, and yet now that Darcy was in her sight, the lines she had composed seemed atrociously lame and patronizing. So what _was_ she to say?

While she was mulling over her dilemma, Lisa Fox, with a startling tan that made her hair look almost white by contrast, pounced right on her, saying "Jo! Did you have a nice winter break?"

"Yeah, I did," Jo said. "How was Miami Beach?"

"Not as bad as I thought it would be. I met a guy there, and he said he would write me."

"Oh really? Where's he from?"

Jo scarcely heard her answer for looking around for Darcy. Ah, there she was, getting into her gymsuit. No one was talking to her. Then Jo started as she noticed something on Darcy's ribs. A big black bruise.

It wasn't the first time she had noticed bruises on Darcy.

"I heard you met somebody too," Lisa said. Jo wrenched her eyes away from Darcy and looked at her friend, who was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Well, yeah, kinda," Jo said, and noticed that other girls were looking her way and trying to pretend they weren't.

"What do you mean, 'kinda'?" Lisa said.

"Oh, nothing," Jo said shrugging. "Just a guy. He lives across the street from us."

"I heard he was pretty hot," Lisa said archly. The others looked away. .

"Did you now," Jo said. _Oh great,_ she thought. _ This is it. And I had to go and get to know him, only to have him snatched away by all the divas. Just great._

"So," Lisa said. "Aren't you going to tell us anything about him?"

"Maybe later," Jo said shrugging as she finished snapping up her suit. "There's somebody I need to talk to at the moment. "See ya."

_Wouldn't wanna be ya_, she thought as she sprinted on ahead to catch up with Darcy. _On the other hand_...

"Darcy!" she called, but the gym teacher's whistle drowned out her voice and the girls all got into their lines for exercise, as Miss Clement put on some rhythmic music and then shrilly began to call out instructions.

After the rigorous calisthenics, there was basketball, as the girls were divided into two teams, and Jo found herself on the team opposite Darcy's. Miss Clement seemed aware of the enmity between the two girls, for she always placed them on opposing teams. Normally Jo didn't mind, because it motivated her to play harder, but today it was not exactly helping her cause. And Darcy really seemed to have it in for her. She managed to get the ball from Jo twice. The first time, Jo sort of let her do it. After Darcy had dribbled away and sunk a basket, she smirked at Jo with triumphant eyes, and Jo meekly gave her a grin, at which a couple of her teammates looked at her in puzzlement. Then Darcy fouled her twice, once in a three-pointer, and Jo got three free shots, scoring in each one, although she almost tried not to. Yet when she saw the hatred in Darcy's eyes, she could not resist, and she got the point, amid cheering from her teammates.

"Way to go, Jojo," Lisa said with a dark look in Darcy's direction. Another clapped her on the back. In the second foul, Darcy knocked her right over, and Jo whacked her knee, which was rather painful. She missed the basket this time. And thought to herself: _No apologies this time, sweetheart. Screw ya_. _At least I did keep my resolution about the fake nails. Come to think of it, I did keep my temper when she fouled me too..._

Then in the showers, Jo saw another bruise on Darcy's back, just above the waist. Darcy was careful to keep to the back of the shower, and not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea, Jo let her alone, keeping her eyes averted.

But after class she trotted after her as she left the gym, calling, "Hey Darcy!" The other girl turned with her usual "What are you looking at" look as Jo caught up to her. "Wait a sec," Jo said. "I want to talk to you a minute."

Darcy, apparently thinking Jo was going to jump on her case for fouling her, turned and kept walking. She was a little shorter than Jo, with rather flat features and short hair that never quite looked combed, and she always seemed to wear the same clothes every day. In an underground mock edition of the school paper she had been voted Worst Personality among the girls, and Jo regretted the fact that she had laughed along with the rest about it, and with a clear conscience since she herself had been voted Most Likely to Get a Sex Change.

_Dang_, thought Jo. _Wonder if she has telekinetic powers or anything, like Carrie. Ya just never know. Maybe she'll settle for shooting up a classroom or something_. The thought chilled her to the bone.

Finally Darcy turned to face her. "You stalking me or what?" she growled.

"No, Darcy," Jo said. "I just wanted to apologize. You know, for being so mean and all. Way back when."

Darcy's green eyes narrowed. _Whew_, thought Jo shifting her backpack from one side to the other for no particular reason. _What goes on in that mind of hers? That is one angry little somebody_. _Why am I doing this? I don't like her, and don't want to be friends with her. What if she thinks that's what I'm after? Not that it's likely or anything, but still. I just want to get on with my life_.

"Are you out of your effing mind?" Darcy said. Only she didn't say "effing," of course.

"I may be," Jo admitted. "But I do apologize. There was no excuse for it. I was wrong, and I knew it all the time. I'm not too proud of myself. But..."

"And now you've decided to feel _sorry_ for me," Darcy sneered, "now that you've got a rich _boyfriend_ and all. Well, isn't that just awesome. You know where you can stick your pity, right?"

"I don't feel sorry for you," Jo said, although it was not strictly true. "And I don't have a rich boyfriend. That's merely an ugly rumor with no truth to it whatsoever. Theo and I are only friends. I'm the Hermione to his Harry. It's a _plutonic_ relationship."

"Oh, really," Darcy said. A few students had stopped to witness the confrontation, some not even trying to pretend they weren't interested and were just standing around to admire the view or something. "So what _are_ you doing? Are you gonna ask me to be your bosom buddy or something?"

And a look came into her eyes that Jo, even as young as she was, recognized as despair. It was totally unnerving.

"If you want to be," Jo said. She couldn't imagine where that came from. It was pity talking, she knew, but she rather wished it would shut the hell up.

Darcy's eyes nearly closed as she looked at Jo for a moment that seemed to last an aeon.

"Go straight to hell," she said finally. And turned and began walking swiftly away, looking as though her shoes were filled with tacks.

_Welllll,_ thought Jo. And found she was actually trembling. She straightened her shoulders, saying aloud to those still standing around, "So, did that go over like the proverbial turd in the proverbial punch bowl, or what?" although she felt more like telling them to take a picture so it would last longer.

And she went on to her geometry class, which she also happened to share with Darcy, who carefully avoided her eyes, and Jo tried to look as though the Pythagorean theorem were the most fascinating thing on the entire planet, for all she couldn't even spell it.

ooooo

"You did try," Meg said as the sisters walked home from school that afternoon. "You resolved to apologize, not to try to make her accept it."

"Yeah, but apologizing just seems much too easy," Jo said. "Seems like there ought to be more to it."

"It couldn't have been easy for you. And you kept your temper when she fouled you in gym class. That's _real_ progress, Jo, and I'm proud of you, for what it's worth."

"It's worth a lot," Jo said without looking at her sister. "So. Did you get as popular as I did all of a sudden?"

"Not really. I told the others Theo was only fourteen and had a comic book collection, and you should have seen how disappointed they looked. So, were the girls all over you like a rash?" Meg grinned.

"You should have seen 'em," Jo snickered. "Mandy Kingsley invited me to her birthday party next week. And told me I could 'bring a friend.' Imagine that!"

Meg laughed. "So are you going?"

"I'm tempted," Jo admitted. "Although I doubt Theo would go for it. But maybe I'll tell him all about it, and he might come with me, and we could pull some major monkeyshines. It might be interesting."

"Well Jo, I hate to be such a wet blanket, but I don't think that's a good idea. We _really_ don't need any more utter catastrophes in the family, you know? Let's just go on as we are, and let them get on with their lives. We're better than that."

"What you mean 'we', white man? Oh wow, look at this. Main Street looks so much more festive now that they took down the Christmas decorations."

"What's the matter, Jo?" Meg said gently. "You look sad. And somehow I don't think it's because they took down the decorations."

"I'm just thinking about Darcy," Jo sighed. "And wondering about...stuff. You know, cosmic kinds of stuff. Like...well, why is it she's so bad off, and we're not? What did she do to deserve being born into the kind of family she did, and what did _I _do to deserve the kind of family _I _have? It's just so unfair. Why do so many people have it so bad, through no fault of their own? Like the Benitez family, for instance. And why should I have it so good? Am I making any sense?"

"Of course you are. But I don't have any big answers, Jo. It's just the way the world is. I know that sounds lame, but it's true."

"It shouldn't have to be that way. There's gotta be a solution. But what? She told me to go straight to hell. I almost said, 'See you there then' and stopped myself just in time. I think she's there already. If you go to the Evans' at one-twenty-seven, it won't be like heaven, it'll be more like nine-eleven..."

"We can only do our part, I guess," Meg said with downcast eyes. "But we can't change the way the world is."

"Wow, I feel like I aged ten years in one day," Jo said. "And it sucks rotten eggs. I'd rather be like I was just yesterday, whooping it up and having all kinds of fun and games, and not giving a thought to the rest of the world. I want to be that Jo again. I hate being the Jo I am now. I'm feeling all Marie Antoinette, perched on her throne eating cake while all the peasants starve and everything. Guillotine, here I come. 'Tis a far, far better thing I do, than any I have done before..."

Meg laughed mirthlessly. "It gets worse, you know."

"Just what I needed to hear. Thanks bunches, big sis."

"Well, _I_ for one like the Jo you are now. The Jo who has acquired compassion and empathy for others. It's a lovely thing to see."

"If only it were a lovely thing to _feel_," Jo sighed. "Damn, now I feel guilty looking forward to any more good times. I'll keep thinking that somebody else is going through the wringer, and that will spoil it all. Stop me now before I break into a chorus of..."

"'I Dreamed a Dream' from _Les Miserables_," Meg said softly. "I've heard the Arts Council is doing that one this summer. Guess I'll audition for grown-up Cosette. I don't know how I'll ever manage to play her though, considering she's been through the wringer too, and I haven't. Maybe I'm not cut out to be an actress after all. Maybe I don't have the emotional depth or something, and that's much more important than having a pretty face and a nice voice. What if that's all I've really got going for me? I don't want to do just silly fluff, I want to be a _serious_ actress and play _real_ parts, and be inspiring and a force for good in the world and all that. It's my lifelong dream. But what if I can't? It's a scary thought."

"I know what you mean," said Jo as she realized they had just gone down Main Street without glancing into one single store window.


	11. Attitude Adjustment

11. Attitude Adjustment

Yet even after that revelation, Jo found that she could enjoy life, after all.

"If everyone went around being miserable after the realization that there is actually a great deal of misery in the world," her mother said that evening at supper, "then it would be an even more miserable place, and nothing would get better. You wouldn't want to get out of bed in the morning."

"But what would we do?" Jo said as she used her fork to slide a bit of roast beef around on her plate, a sure sign something was amiss in her world. "There must be some kind of solution to the problem. I saw her bruises, and I know they didn't come from playing basketball."

"I will contact the Child Protection Agency tomorrow morning," Mrs. March said. "I can't tell you how many times I've seen this sort of thing at the hospital."

"I don't see how you still manage to be happy for the rest of us, Mom," Meg said softly. "Seeing all that kind of thing every day would do me in. I'd be a total wreck."

"I'd try not to think about it much," Amy shrugged after making herself a milk mustache. "I guess that's what Mom does, right?"

"I've been awful selfish," Beth said, "being all happy about my new piano and all, when so many people are unhappy in the world. But I couldn't help it."

"There is no need to feel badly about being happy, Bethy," Mrs. March said. "I want all of you to be happy. I also want all of you to have compassion for the suffering of others. In time you will come to learn to balance these things, and to be able to help others and impart your joy to them. As Joseph Wood Krutch said, 'If we do not permit the earth to produce beauty and joy, it will in the end not produce food, either.'"

"Joseph...who?" Jo said.

"Wooden Krutch," Amy giggled.

"He was a writer," Mrs. March said. "And young lady, we should not make fun of people's names. By the way, Jo, Aunt Martha came home yesterday afternoon."

"Oh, hot dog," Jo said laying down her fork. "So I can look forward to a wild, wild weekend of babysitting a batty old lady who has a predilection for somnambulism and can't even get my name right. _Josephine,_she calls me. Who does she think I am, Mrs. Napoleon? Every time I tell her my name is Jodie, she says, 'That's no kind of name for a young lady. I don't know what your mother was thinking.'"

"Maybe she thinks you're Josephine Wooden Krutch," Amy giggled. "Sounds like an Injun."

"Native American," Meg corrected her softly.

"What _ever_," Amy said. "Who thinks up all these dumb words anyway?"

"Every time I enter her house, I feel like I've just stepped into a story by Nathaniel Hawthorne," Jo grumbled. "The Last of the Puritans, that's her. If this were the sixteen-hundreds, she'd have me in the stocks, or up on the pillory with a big red letter on my shirt, or in the ducking stool. I wish she'd wake up and realize we're living in the twenty-first century. I'd settle for the twentieth."

"I hate going in her house," Amy said shuddering. "It's creepy. And I saw a spider in it once. I'm never going to get old."

The others laughed.

"And just how do you propose to keep from doing that?" her mother asked.

"I'll either die young, or else I'll marry a filthy rich man when I grow up so I can afford to have lots of plastic surgery and stuff," Amy said. "I'll get a nose job first thing. I hate my nose. It's the vane of my existence. Maybe I'll marry Theo," she added with a defiant look at Jo.

"Oh, of course," Jo said rolling up her eyes. "Gold digger much?"

"I haven't noticed him proposing to _you_yet," Amy said with an imperious little flip of her hand.

"I think you're kinda supposed to like go on a _date_ first?" Jo said. "And seeing as how the art of dating necessitates a _vehicle_of some description, this township being far too capacious for perambulation, and he won't achieve his sixteenth birthday until April, it rather puts a damper on that little prerequisite for the nonce."

"Speak English," Amy said sticking both fingers in her ears. Meg laughed.

"I can't imagine getting old either," Beth said as Mimi jumped up into her lap. "I can't even imagine growing up and getting married, or even dating. I wouldn't know what to say. I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up. I never think about it."

"You _have_to get married, Beth," Amy said. "Or else you'll just turn into a crazy cat lady, playing the piano all the time and never having any fun."

"What an old-fashioned idea, Amy," her mother laughed, then smiled at Beth who looked hurt and puzzled. "One can have plenty of fun without being married."

"You could be a piano teacher," Meg said to Beth. "You wouldn't have to get married if you didn't want to. But I bet you will. Some guy will fall wildly in love with you someday."

"Yeah," Jo said. "I don't plan on getting married, myself. I'm going to write books and travel all over the globe, having wild adventures. I'm married to my career...or at least, engaged to it."

More laughter. "Those are famous last words," Mrs. March said.

"I hope to combine a career with marriage," Meg said. "I wouldn't want to miss out on having a family. It's the whole meaning of life, I think."

"Got the groom picked out?" Hannah said coming into the dining room with the cake.

"Not yet," Meg said. "But like in the song, someday my prince will come."

"Oh broth_errrr_," Amy said.

"You mean, 'Oh sister'," Beth said, and all laughed except Amy.

"Don't you want any children, Jo?" Meg asked.

"Nah," Jo said. "I'm not crazy about little rugrats. I probably wouldn't make a very good mother anyway. I just can't picture myself arranging play dates and being on the PTA and all. I'd probably get called on the carpet for teaching kids to play stud or wing-walking stunts."

"I don't like kids either," Amy said. "Sure they're cute when they're little, but then they get big and they start getting a smart mouth. And changing diapers? Ewww!"

"You've never even changed one," Jo said.

"Well, I've watched other peeps do it," Amy said, "and it almost made me _sick._How can people stand it?"

"It's different when they're your own," her mother said smiling.

"I love babies," Beth said. "Although I don't like changing diapers either."

"You change your doll diapers," Amy pointed out. "Don't think I haven't seen you. I can't believe you're almost thirteen and you still like dolls. I didn't even like dolls when I was a kid, except for Barbies, but that's different."

"How is it different?" Mrs. March said.

"It just _is,_" Amy said with typical Amy logic. The others laughed.

"I'd like a lot of kids," Meg said. "Maybe four of them. But I don't see how I'd balance motherhood and a career. I hope I won't be forced into choosing between them."

"Lots of movie stars have kids," Beth said.

"Yes, but how much time do they get to spend with them? And I don't want to be in the movies. I want to be a stage actress. It seems a much higher profession."

"I think it would be way cool to be in the movies," Amy said. "Maybe I'll be in one someday. Except I'm not gorgeous and I'm not such a great actress either."

Jo had been about to say that Amy couldn't act her way out of a paper bag, but thought better of it.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't complain about going to Aunt Martha's," she said. "It may be a lousy way to spend the weekend, but at least it keeps me off the streets."

"I thought you liked big creepy old houses," Meg said.

"I do," Jo said, "but after you've gone into one umpty-ump times, the bloom kinda rubs off. And besides, I totally freeze my butt off in the wintertime. You'd think she could afford central heating, at least. But she's tighter than Dick's hat band. That eenie-weenie little TV set of hers must go back to the seventies. And that _organ_. It's straight out of Castle Dracula. Once she played it for me, and it just about scared the you know what out of me. It sounded like a dragon snoring. Would someone care to elaborate just why I'm supposed to go there when she's got servants out the ol' wazoo and a private nurse to take care of her?"

"I thought we had explained that to you," Mrs. March said. "She needs someone young and alive there, to..."

"Oh yeah. To be a ray of sunshine and all that. Got it." Jo snapped her fingers. Amy groaned.

"Exactly," Mrs. March said smiling. "You're the one with that gift, Jo. She's really terribly lonely, you know. She lost her husband fifteen years ago and her one child died at birth. And she's not exactly the sort of person who draws people to her naturally."

"You've noticed that too, huh."

"She didn't want your father to marry me. I wasn't 'in his class' and I 'roped him into marriage', and so on. But do I pity her, although I know she'd be mortally offended if she knew it. She likes you, Jo. She may not bend over backwards showing it, but she truly thrives on your company. She needs you. You're like the window she never can quite close."

Jo sighed. "I've actually tried to get her _not_to like me. She always has me read the most atrociously boring stuff to her. I don't see what she gets out of it. She drops right off to sleep when I'm on like the second page. Good thing I always remember to bring something interesting with me to read when that happens, or I'd be bouncing off the walls. Well. Looks like all this empathy and compassion stuff ain't gonna be as easy as it sounds. Don't know how much longer the kinder, gentler Jo is gonna last. Ornery was a heck of a lot easier."

About a month later, Jo and Meg came home to find the house in a general state of uproar. Beth and Amy were sitting at the dining table, and both appeared to have been crying. Mrs. March was talking to someone on the phone, sounding much agitated.

The TV was not even on.

"What the..." Jo looked blankly about.

"What's going on?" Meg said simultaneously. Hannah motioned over toward the dining room, where the little girls sat at the table.

"Amy took a knife to school," she said. "And now she can't go back. Ever again."

ooooo

"It was only a little jackknife," Amy protested all over again, through tears. "It's all Jennifer Snowden's fault. She told the boys I was 'easy' and she said she saw me making out with Rory Littlejohn behind the gym...as _if._ And then they started stalking me all over the place. I brought the knife to just show them so they'd leave me alone. That's all I brought it for. I wasn't going to really _use_it. Unless I just had to."

"Why didn't you tell the teacher the boys were bothering you?" her mother asked.

"Mom, are you kidding me? If you snitch on somebody at that school, you're _dead_. The teachers don't care anyway. They don't like you to come whining to them with your troubles. I hate that school. I'm glad I can't go back."

Amy sniffled and Beth passed her the box of tissues once more. Amy blew her nose loudly.

"You should have told me," Jo said. "I know we have our little tiffs, but you _are_my sister, and I'm the closest thing you've got to a brother. I would have sailed right over there and put the fear of God in 'em."

"I don't know what this world is coming to," Hannah said. "Jennifer told the boys you were 'easy'? I never even heard of that kind of stuff until I was in high school. Kids know too much these days."

"Why did Jennifer tell the boys a thing like that?" Meg asked.

"Because..." Amy blew her nose again. "Because I...well, the other day I had a bag of candy, you know that exotic kind Theo gave me, and I brought it to school and gave some to my friends at lunchtime. Well, Jen wanted some, and I wouldn't give her any 'cause she'd been so mean all week. So all of a sudden she's all nicey-nice, and she's like, 'Oh Aaaamyyyy'-like that, you know. You should have seen her. Like I'm going to fall for _that_. So I told her, 'Looky here, Miss So and So, I may be a blonde, but I wasn't exactly born _yesterday,_ ya know.' Or something like that. Then I said she could kiss my behind all she wanted to, she still wasn't going to get any of my candy after the way she acted. So she goes and tells the boys I'm 'easy.' I didn't even know what that meant, at first. Then Brad Downing starts following me around at recess, saying all kinds of...things. Nasty things. He's a natural-born troublemaker. And then a couple of friends of his started in on it too. Aaron Bishop told me they wrote some things about me on the wall of the boys' room. I got scared. I didn't know what else to do. So I found Dad's old jackknife in the kitchen drawer. It's not even that sharp. I don't see why they're making such a big whoop de do about it. You'd think I took a _gun_or something."

"Brad Downing, huh?" Jo said. "Give me some more names. I'll go teach those little bastards a few lessons they won't learn in school."

"No, Jo," her mother said, "don't make more trouble than has already been made. I'm going over to the school first thing tomorrow morning to see if I can get to the bottom of this. You can do these things much better in person."

"Well, looks like my little class just increased by one," Hannah said. "Guess we'll have to go out and get another desk."

"Theo has one he might let us have," Beth said. "He was going to give it to me, but I already have one."

"I _can't_have home schooling!" Amy burst out. "My friends will think I'm a freak!"

"Excuse me?" Hannah said. "Beth has been home schooled for several years now. Are you calling her a freak?"

"Some of the kids at school say she is," Amy looked at her sister with accusing eyes.

"They're idiots," Meg said. "You shouldn't pay any attention to them. Their value systems are totally warped."

"I'd say Beth is the poster child for home schooling," Jo said reaching out to caress a lock of Beth's hair. "She's totally unlike your average middle school kid. The average middle school kid is straight out of _Lord of the Flies_." She smiled at Beth, who was looking a bit stricken.

"Well, at least you're right in _that_," Amy said. "Most kids are orcs. Especially boys."

"If Beth is a freak," Meg said, before Jo could set Amy straight, "then there's seriously something to be said for freakiness."

"Right," Mrs. March said. "Do you know Beth goes to baby-sit the Benitez children on weekends so their mother can go to work? All five of them. I told her it wasn't necessary, the ladies in my Sunday school class have taken Mrs. Benitez under their collective wing. But Beth actually enjoys going over there."

"Oh, don't I know it," Amy sulked. "She's a little angel and I'm a horrible monster from the pit. Why don't you just come right out and say it?"

"Ok, she's a little angel and you're a horrible monster from the pit," Jo said. "Great. Now Hannah is stuck with _two_kids to teach. Nice going, Amy."

"Jo, you're not helping matters any," her mother said.

"Maybe I should go back to school," Beth said. Everyone turned to stare at her. "Then Hannah won't have such a heavy work load. It's not fair to have her saddled with the both of us."

"Thank you, honey," Hannah said, "but it's not necessary. I don't mind. You two are so close in age, I doubt it will make a whole lot of difference, and might even make things more interesting."

Amy began to snivel again. "This is so not fair," she sobbed. "Everybody always blames the victim. I'm doomed. I might as well be dead."

She dropped her head onto her arms dramatically and began to wail. Mrs. March put an arm across her shoulders.

"Well, isn't this just wonderful," Jo said to no one in particular.

Mrs. March went to the school the next day, then came back reporting that the boys who had been harassing Amy had gotten suspended, but had no luck getting Amy reinstated. The only school she could hope to attend was the alternative school, and that was out of the question, her mother said.

Yet as winter reluctantly succumbed to the delicious allure of spring, the family saw a noticeable change in Amy's attitude. Once she became resigned to the inevitability of "her hideous fate," she actually began to do quite well under Hannah's tutelage, particularly when she came to find she would not have to give up her "artistic endeavors." In the afternoon the two girls would go over to the Laurences' where Mr. Brooke was teaching Spanish, and have lessons there, one in Spanish and the other in music. When the weather was nice they'd have the lessons out in the back yard, and then take a nature walk, where Amy was allowed to bring her sketch pad. Amy even went with Beth to the Benitezes one afternoon. It was their mother who had suggested it, but Amy went without grumbling or whining, without more than a little sigh and a "Well, if I have to." She even let herself be persuaded to change the baby's diaper, "so long as it wasn't number two," admitting it wasn't so hard once you got the hang of it. You just had to be careful not to let him squirt you in the eye, that's all.

"That's one problem I never had," her mother said smiling.

"You know what?" Amy said with twinkling eyes. "I think Mr. Brooke has the hots for Meg. He mentioned her twice."

"Why, he's much too old for her," Mrs. March exclaimed. "How old is he-about twenty-five?"

"Twenty-two," Meg said and it seemed she was getting awfully pink all of a sudden. "And he has a girlfriend already. I saw him kissing her after church once."

"Maybe she's his sister," Amy said with a wink. "Don't you think he has nice eyes? All big and brown, like Bambi."

"He doesn't have a sister," Meg said without answering the question. "He had a brother once, but he got killed over there."

"How do you know so much about him?" Amy said.

"It's common knowledge," Meg said smiling mysteriously.

A few days later, she came home saying she had been fired from her job at the boutique.

"They wanted me to dress like a slut," she said, "with some teeny little black skirt up to here and this sequin top down to there, high heeled boots and a ton of makeup. They wanted the store to have a 'new look.' I wouldn't do it. So they said it wasn't going to work out, and they let me go."

"Good for you," Jo said with a snap of her fingers. "I always knew you had character."

"Lot of good it does me," Meg said with a melancholy face. "So what am I going to do now?"

"Apply for another job," Hannah said. "There are surely other stores who want workers of good moral fiber."

"I don't know about that," Meg sighed. "Seems everybody wants you to sell your soul to the devil any more."

"Ask Mr. Laurence," Jo said. "Surely he has valuable connections. I think you were right when you said it helps to have friends in high places, after all. It helps a _bunch_."

"Beth, are you ok, hon?" Hannah said. Jo and Meg looked at Beth who was sitting at the piano with her hand to her forehead.

"I...I'm all right," she said. "I just felt kind of dizzy for a minute."

"Hope you're not coming down with something," Hannah said going over to feel Beth's forehead and cheeks. "No fever. Have you had this kind of spell before? You look kind of pale."

"Yes...the other day," Beth said in a small voice. "But it went away. I'll be all right."

"You'd better go lie down for a while. We'll have your mother look at you when she comes home."

"I'll be ok," Beth said. And she stood up after a moment, staggered, lost her balance and fell right into the table.


	12. Locks of Love

12. Locks of Love

"Jo, I hope you don't mind if I move in with Amy for a while," Meg said. "It's hard for her without Beth. Just till Beth comes home from the hospital. Would that be ok?"

"I guess so," Jo said numbly. She didn't say, "IF Beth comes home from the hospital," and she tried not to even think it. _I'm not a realist, _she thought. _ I'm a fantasist. Keep thinking like one. You know what the doctor said anyway. Acute lymphoblastic leukemia has a ninety percent survival rate. Remember that...and then pray. Never have been the praying type, minister's daughter or no minister's daughter. But pray like you've never prayed before._

It was good to have Meg to talk to on the way to and home from school, at least. They were in it together. Trouble was, breaking down in tears from time to time out on the street could be embarrassing.

And so Theo started driving them home. He had just gotten his driver's license, having turned sixteen a month before. He actually was a pretty good driver, for a boy and for his age. And it was good of him to do it, considering what lousy company the sisters had become now. Chauffeuring a pair of weepy girls around couldn't have been much fun.

Putting up with Amy's remorse must have been even less so. _I wish I hadn't called her a freakshow. I wish I hadn't of made fun of her dolls. I wish I had gone with her more to the Benitezes'. I wish I hadn't gone around telling people she was younger than me. I wish I hadn't said I hated stories where people died in the end..._

"I think I liked Amy better when she didn't have a conscience," Jo remarked to Meg and Theo one afternoon as he was driving them home. Theo laughed a little, then looked guilty about it.

"It was so good of your grandfather to have Beth airlifted to Boston, Theo," Meg said. "I wonder if she was much frightened about that. I don't know if she's afraid of heights or not. I hope not."

"Amy's the one who's afraid of heights," Jo said. "I hope Beth isn't scared in the hospital. She said it was cool to get to ride in a helicopter, and land on the hospital roof just like on TV. She's braver than I ever gave her credit for. Mom said she fainted when they did the bone-marrow test on her. At least she stopped feeling it then."

And her eyes started filling up again. That was getting to be such a usual thing, Theo was probably taking it in his stride by now.

"Leukemia is one hell of a lousy birthday present," Theo remarked. And could find nothing further to say.

"Maybe thirteen really is an unlucky number," Jo said. "I remember the day I turned thirteen, I stepped on a three-inch nail and had to get tetanus shots. Although that seems like pretty small potatoes compared with...you know."

"I don't feel much like trying out for the school musical now," Meg said. "They're doing _The Music Man_ this year. Everyone expects me to audition for the role of Marian."

"She said for us all to do whatever we'd be doing if she was here," Jo said blowing her nose rather loudly. "That's Beth for you. So. You'll audition for Marian the librarian, and I'll play softball, and maybe Amy will go back to being her old obnoxious self..."

"I've got something you can have," Theo said as they were nearly home. "It's my old computer. I never use it any more. I use my laptop, or Granddad's computer. He hardly ever touches it. I'll hook it up for you and everything."

"We don't have Internet connection," Meg pointed out. "And I couldn't pay for it, now that I'm out of a job, and don't seem to have any prospects."

"I'll pay for it," Jo said. "I don't have anything else to spend my pay on. And Aunt Martha gave me a raise. She said a 'change' had come over me, something she 'couldn't put her finger on', but I was slowly outgrowing my 'gawky stage' and was 'finally becoming a woman.' I didn't know what to think about that. Not sure it's a good thing or what, coming from her. But hey, I'm getting more money for it, so I guess _something_ good came of it."

"She means you're less sassy than you used to be," Theo said with an attempt at lightness.

"And therefore more boring," Jo said. "Whoop de frikken' do."

"I didn't say that," Theo said.

"I haven't worked on my book in weeks," Jo said. "I was looking over it just the other day, and I nearly heaved up my breakfast. I couldn't believe I actually wrote such _idiocracy_ with a straight face. Guess I'm not cut out to be a writer, after all."

"Of all the people for that to happen to," Meg said for the umptieth time. She didn't seem to have heard a word Jo said.

"I know, right?" Theo said with a sigh. "Really makes you wonder about things."

Jo winced at the triteness of his words, especially considering she had thought exactly the same thing herself. Heard those words spoken at school, at church, at other people's homes. Kids who had barely ever spoken to her had come to her in the hallway to express their sympathy, ask if there was anything they could do. She didn't know what to make of it.

Meg even said Eddy Moffat had done that too.

"I just wish there was something I could _do_," Jo said with a long snivel. "I feel so stupid and helpless. If I could just visit her in the hospital, that would be _something_, at least."

"I'll ask Granddad to take us there this weekend," Theo said. Those words, kindly meant, sent a chill over Jo.

"I hate hospitals," she said. "With a passion. I can't believe my mom works in one full time. I gotta give her credit."

"She's a very strong woman," Theo said.

"She really is," Meg said. "More than I ever realized. I feel so weak and shallow beside her. The things I once thought were so important, seem so trivial and useless now."

She reached into her purse for a tissue, then realized she had used them all up already. Well, but at least now they were home.

"I'll go get the 'puter now," Theo said as he dropped the girls off.

"I'll come help you carry it in," Jo said.

"No need. It's all in one box. It's never been taken out since I came to live there."

"It must be a big box. Let me help. It will give me something to do, at least."

"All righty then. Climb back in."

After the Inspiron was all set up in the small room known as the Schoolroom, Theo stood back and smiled a little.

"Its name is Dave," he said.

"Why Dave?" Jo and Meg said together.

"I dunno," Theo shrugged. "Seemed as good a name as any, I guess."

"What do you call your laptop?" Meg asked.

"It's Theo Junior," he said.

"Theo Junior?" Jo said. "I thought that was...never mind."

"That is so stinkin' cool," said Amy, who seemed a bit more chipper now. "I feel like a normal person now that we've got a computer. We can stop living in the Stone Age."

"Maybe Mom can email us from her cell phone now," Jo said. "Guys, you need to set up email accounts."

"I have one already," Meg said. "From the school computer."

"I know what screenname I want to use," Amy said. "Aimee_la_Artista. Cool, huh?"

"Kind of long, isn't it?" Theo looked mightily amused.

"I'm going to get a new one," Jo said, "now that my lifelong dream has gone down the toilet. 'AuthorExtraordinaire' just sounds like a hollow mockery now."

"I'll keep mine," Meg said. "It's just 'MeghanMarch'. How boring is that?"

"Don't I get to have one too?" Hannah said as she came to look at the new family member.

"Sure you do," Jo said. "Just sit down here at Dave and have at it."

"Maybe somebody better show me how to turn it on first," Hannah said.

"I'll show you how to set up an email account," Theo said as he indicated the switch. "What's your last name, Hannah?"

"You don't want to know," she said. "What's all this here? I feel leery giving out so much personal information."

"You can make up stuff," Theo said. "You don't have to give out your real info. In fact, it's better you don't."

"It's 'Mullet'," Jo said. "And we've actually got a picture somewhere with her hair in one. For real. Naturally, it's a very old picture. It was taken before we were born."

Theo laughed. "That I gotta see," he said.

"I'll use 'MulletOver'," Hannah said. "How's that?"

"How about 'Mulleteer'?" he said. "Or 'Mulletrix' or 'Mullinator', or..."

"Now we can set up Facebook accounts," Meg said. "And I'll no longer be the only girl in my class who doesn't have one."

"This guy has got virus protection, and it's also got Photoshop," Theo informed them, with a glance at Amy. "Gather around, and I'll give all of you a lesson in getting around Dave's ins and outs. He can be a booger till you really get to know him."

Mrs. March called in the evening, as she always did, to give reports on Beth, and Beth talked to them as well.

"I've got a new roommate named Kaylee," she said. "She's got leukemia too. She's only eleven. She's been here much longer than I have, like about six months. My old roommate went home."

"How are you feeling?" Meg and Jo asked simultaneously.

"Not so good," Beth said. "I miss my piano."

"I'll bring you my electronic keyboard," Theo said, "when I come up there. I'll bring you the earphones too, so nobody will jump your case about disturbing the peace."

"That'll be nice," Beth said. "My hair is starting to fall out. The chemo is making me bald-headed. I'm starting to look like Dad."

"I'll make you a hat," Meg said. "I haven't crocheted in years, but I haven't forgotten how."

"That's ok, Meg. Kaylee gave me a pretty head scarf. She has three or four of them that people gave her."

"I'll bring your book," Amy said. "The one about the Christmas birds and all. Even though it isn't Christmas or anything."

"That's ok, Amy. Mom bought me a new book. It's called _Eight Cousins_. It's pretty good."

"I'll still bring it," Amy said.

"Meg, did you get the part in the school musical?" Beth said.

"I haven't tried out yet," Meg said. "Tryouts are next week. I don't know if I will or not."

"Oh, you must. I want to see you in it when I come home."

"Ok then, I will."

"Yeah, Meg, you have to," Amy said. "You'll be a shoo-up for the part."

"Shoo-_in_," Jo corrected her.

"I hope you're not too scared over there, Bethy," Hannah said.

"Not as much as at first," Beth said. "I'm getting used to it. I'm glad Mom is here with me, or it would be much worse. And Kaylee inspires me, she's sooo brave. She's been here much longer than I have, and she has such a positive outlook on things."

"That's wonderful, hon," Hannah said with a little sniff.

"Jo, are you still working on your story?" Beth said.

"No. It's a stupid story. I think I'll just trash it."

"Don't trash it, Jo. I want to read it when you finish it."

"Ok then."

"You're not crying, are you Jo?"

"No. I'm not." Jo reached for the tissue box. Theo held it to her.

"I don't want you all to worry about me," Beth said.

"We won't, then," Meg said reaching for the tissue box also. It was empty, so Amy ran into the bathroom and brought out a roll of toilet paper.

"Concentrate on getting well, Bethy," she said.

"I will," Beth said. "I wish the chemo didn't make me so sick, though. I wouldn't mind losing my hair so much, but I _hate_ throwing up."

"How's the food there?" Theo asked.

"Terrible," Beth said. "I can't hardly eat it. I can't wait to get home and have some _real_ food again."

"Do you have to wear one of those hospital gowns where your buttcrack shows?" Amy asked.

"Amy," Meg reproved her, then laughed a little.

"Yes," Beth said, and it sounded like she laughed a little too. "But it's ok. I'm in bed most of the time anyway. And I've got a robe to put on."

"I hope you're not in pain," Meg said.

"I'm not. I just feel sick most of the time."

"I wish I could have the sickness instead of you," Jo said.

"I wouldn't wish it on anybody," Beth said with a sigh. "How are the Benitezes?"

"I don't know," Jo said with a little guilty qualm.

"I saw Mariela yesterday," Amy said. "She asked about you."

"You know what?" Beth said dropping her voice to a whisper. "Kaylee's asleep now. She's getting a bone marrow transplant soon. I don't think she's going to make it. It's just a feeling I have."

Jo almost felt sick then.

"Well, you keep fighting it," she said, her voice dropping also, although it was hardly necessary. "We'll be coming up to visit you soon. Maybe this weekend."

"That will be nice," Beth said. Yet she didn't sound as though she really thought it would be that nice. "How is Mimi?"

"She whines a lot," Amy said. "I caught her drinking out of the toilet this morning. She never did that before. She misses you, I think."

"We all do," Meg said.

"I think Beth needs to rest now," Mrs. March said. "I'll call you all tomorrow. Did you say you have a computer now?"

"Yeah, Mom," Jo said. "You can email us now with the phone."

"If I weren't so technologically challenged," Mrs. March said. "I think I'll just stick to calling you up. I like to hear your voices."

Jo couldn't get to sleep, in fact, alone in her room without Meg, so she finally went into her mother's room where Hannah slept, and crawled in with her. The following night, and thereafter, Hannah slept in Meg's bed. It helped a lot.

Then one day later that week, as Jo was messing around the computer researching leukemia, she came across something on it. And realized there _was_ something she could do.

ooooo

"Oh. My. God," Meg gasped as Jo came into the room where she and Amy and Hannah were getting supper on the table. "Jo. What _happened _to you?"

"Great balls of fire," Hannah said, using an expression she reserved for the direst of occasions.

"Where's your _hair_?" Amy demanded. Jo held up a paper sack.

"In here," she said. "How do I look?"

"Quite frankly, like you backed into the business end of a weed whacker," Hannah said. "Who in the wide world cut it for you?"

"I did," Jo said rather miserably. "Guess it looks pretty horrible, what? Maybe I could get a job in an emo band."

"If you wanted your hair cut, you should have told me," Meg said, "and we could have taken you to the salon. We still can, but it'll have to wait till tomorrow."

"Actually, there's a different place I want to go first," Jo said. "Ever hear of 'Locks of Love'?"

"Of course I've heard of it," Meg said gently. "You did it for Beth, didn't you? To make her a wig. Oh, Jo."

"You should have let Meg do that," Amy said. "She has other things pretty besides her hair."

"That's not very nice, tootsy," Hannah said giving Amy a quick little spank. "Jo has plenty other things besides her hair, too. We'll go first thing tomorrow. And then we'll go to the salon and get Jo's hair trimmed. I think she'll look real nice with a decent cut, and it'll be a lot more comfortable for the summer. As a matter of fact, I think she's never looked lovelier than she does now."

"I totally agree," Meg said smiling.


	13. The Artistic Temperament

13. The Artistic Temperament

The wig would not be ready for another week, so they couldn't take it to Beth that weekend.

"I'd like to contribute a lock of my own," Meg said as they cleared up after dinner. "I know it's not the same shade, but Beth won't mind."

"Then I will too," Amy said. "I think a blonde streak would look cool."

"I'd give some of mine," Hannah said, "but it's a bit too short, and mostly grey now anyway."

"We can put it in the bangs," Jo suggested.

"Then I'll contribute a bit of mine for the bangs too," Theo said. "She'll have a really colorful wig then."

"Brown, chestnut, flaxen blonde, dishwater blonde mixed with grey, and raven black," Jo said peering down into the sack. "Gee, we need a touch of pink. Have we got any Kool-aid?"

Amy rummaged in her mother's sewing basket to find the scissors, although they were not exactly hair-cutting scissors.

"I'll cut from a place where it won't show," Hannah said as Meg bent her head to give the lock.

"I don't care if it shows," Meg said, although she didn't sound as if she truly meant it. "I'm supposed to be working on not being vain anyway. That was my New Year's resolution, and the first thing I did after I could get up again was get my ears pierced. How pathetic is that?"

"The only thing pathetic," Jo said, "was when you tried to get me to have mine pierced too. All I need is a couple more holes in my head."

"I sort of considered getting mine pierced once," Theo confessed. "But I chickened out, which may have been a good thing."

"I should say so," Amy said with a shudder. "Eww. That would look _totally_ gay."

"I don't think so," Jo said, more to be contrary than anything else. "I think he'd look like a gypsy, or a dashing pirate king, with his dark coloring and flashing eyes, with a gold ring in his ear. Or Othello. It would be real picturesque with the right costume."

"I'd better just stick to clip-ons," Theo said. His cheeks looked a tiny bit red, and so did his ears. Jo and Meg laughed.

"I don't mind if it shows on my head either," Amy said with a pitiful attempt at heroism, as Meg handed the clipped lock to Jo, who tied it carefully with a bit of twine and put it in the sack with her own hair. "_I _was supposed to work on not being selfish. Well, actually I did, when I shared my candy with my so-called friends, and look where _that_ got me. It was my downfall."

"Well, you know what they say," Jo said uncomfortingly. "No good deed goes unpunished."

"Nobody cares what I look like, anyway," Amy said with quivering lips. "I might as well be invisible. Even those girls I shared with haven't been around to see me since I left school. They think I'm this dangerous criminal now. I'm a total paragon."

"Don't you mean pariah?" Jo said.

"It's probably because their mothers won't let 'em," Hannah said. "Not because they don't want to come."

"Emily still comes," Meg said.

"She's Beth's friend," Amy said blinking back tears.

"She's yours too," Meg said caressing Amy's hair with a gentle hand. "She still comes even though Beth's in the hospital. She comes to see you."

"Your turn now, li'l missy," Hannah said to Amy. "Be seated, if you please."

."Get it over with," Amy said between clenched teeth, as she sat down in the chair looking for all the world like she was about to have a tooth extracted. Jo really had to hand it to her.

ooooo

"Are we there yet?" Amy asked nervously the following day. She sat in the front seat of the van with Meg, while Jo sat with Theo and Hannah in back. Theo called the driver Jeeves, although his real name was Douglas. "Douglas" just didn't sound chauffeurish enough, he reasoned. It sounded too much like a guy who cut the lawn on Saturday afternoons in his Bermuda shorts and flip-flops, then kicked back on the porch with a can of beer and a pair of binoculars to scope out the hot chick sunbathing next door.

"About seven miles away...from the hospital," Theo said glancing at the GPS on the dashboard of the van. "You've been to Boston before, haven't you?"

"Thousands of times," she said with the air of a world-weary traveler. "But not to the hospital. I'm scared. Couldn't I stay at Aunt Patty's, Hannah?"

"Beth would be hurt if you didn't come see her," Hannah said. "Don't you think?"

"What if she dies while I'm there?" Amy was close to tears.

"She won't," Meg said. "She's only been there for about three weeks now. And she'll be happy to see us."

"It's a hospital where people _die_," Amy said clutching the book she held to her chest. "How can anybody _stand_ to go in? What if they're carrying out dead people while we're there? I wish I hadn't of come."

"Christopher Columbus," Jo said in exasperation. Hannah gave her a reproving glance.

"If Beth could go in, surely you could," she said to Amy. "Wouldn't you think?"

"If _I_ had to go in, I might as well just croak there and then," Amy said. Tears seeped over her cheeks and she wiped them with her sleeve.

"Don't say 'croak' unless you're referring to frogs," Jo said.

"Tell you what," Theo said. "Next week we'll throw you a birthday party, what say? Your birthday's the twenty-second of April, right? Today's the tenth. We can throw one early and have a big bash."

"What's the point of having a party if nobody comes?" Amy said sniffling. "Nobody wants to go to a psychopath's party. Hannibal Lecture is more popular than I am now."

"'Lecter'," Jo said.

"I bet the kids in your Sunday school class would come," Meg said. "And you're not a psychopath."

"I bet they wouldn't," Amy said. "They don't hardly speak to me either. They're too afraid I'd pull a knife on 'em. And all because I merely defended myself."

"Tell you what," Theo said. "I've got some friends in Bar Harbor I've been meaning to invite over as soon as the weather clears up. I'll ask them to come down and we can have a picnic out near the pond. They're twins, and their kid sister Gracie is about your age, I think. You'd like her. And you'd get a kick out of their mom. She's British and very uppity, and has the snootiest accent you ever heard, just like in one of those corny old movies. Maybe we could even go up to Boston and take in a ballet or something. Ever see a ballet?"

"On TV one time," Amy said.

"Let me guess," Theo said shutting his eyes for some reason. "_The Nutcracker_?"

"How'd you _know_?" exclaimed Amy with wide eyes.

"Just a shot in the dark," Theo said with a wink. "Actually, _The Nutcracker_ is the only ballet most people ever see. Not sure what's playing this season, but I can look it up for you."

"You'd really take me to see it?" Amy said still sniffling. "Like on a date?"

"Well, I was kinda thinking of taking all of you together," Theo said glancing back at the others, who smiled.

"But...but I can't exactly go to the ballet when my sister is on her deathbed, can I?" Amy said. "I'd feel absolutely _horrible_."

"She's not on her deathbed," Hannah chided her. "Don't even think 'deathbed.' We've got to keep a positive outlook, and do what we'd be doing if she weren't in the hospital, like she requested."

"Right," Theo said nodding. "Leukemia has a high recovery rate now, not like back in the old days when everybody just died of it. Modern medicine has come a long way, baby. And this hospital is rated one of the highest cancer treatment facilities in the country. I can show you where it says that, if you don't believe me. That's why Granddad had her taken to it."

"We're almost here," Jo said as the hospital hove into sight. "Wish we had the wig ready. I'd love to see her face when she puts it on."

"Your haircut looks awful cute now, Jo," Hannah said smiling a little. "I'm starting to get used to it, now that it's been trimmed and all. It becomes you."

"When I walked into class this morning, everybody looked at me like I came in with a rainbow mohawk," Jo said. "Hey, now there's an idea."

"We're here," Theo said as Jeeves/Douglas pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Just drop us off at the entrance, Jeeves. Then you can park wherever you can."

"It's so _huge_," Amy said staring straight up at the very tall building. She was visibly trembling.

"It's got those tall columns in front," Theo said in an attempt to ease her fear, "just like my house."

"It's _way_ bigger," Amy pointed out with her typical Amy logic. "I've never seen such a _big_ hospital before."

"Would you like to go to Aunt Patty's to stay while we visit Beth?" Meg asked her. Their mother had taken a leave of absence so she could be with Beth, and she stayed with her sister since she could not afford to commute back and forth every day. She came home only on weekends. Aunt Patty was divorced, and her older son, Holden, was in college, living in his fraternity house. His younger brother Neville was fourteen and very geeky. Jo got on pretty well with him at times, although he could be a pain in the ass, and visits to Aunt Patty's usually culminated in a squabble between him and Jo, most of which were about whether or not the Star Trek movies were a "travesty" (his favorite word) of the TV show, or whether or not the changes made to the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy in the movies were done with criminal intent. Stuff like that. She was supposed to be on non-speaking terms with him at the moment, since it had gotten back to her that he had written something disparaging about her on Facebook. _Requesting prayers and good vibes for my little cousin Beth, who has been diagnosed with leukemia and has been airlifted to the Mass. General Hospital,_ he'd written. Well and good, even though he claimed to be an agnostic. But then someone had responded expressing his or her sympathies, and he'd written: _Well, maybe now her big sister Jo will come down from her high horse and learn a soupçon of humility and renounce her know-it-all attitude, what?_ She could hardly believe the nerve of him, or the irony either. "Soupçon"? Cripes almighty.

"If she goes to Aunt Patty's, she'll have to get Mom to take her," Jo said. "And Mom's inside waiting for us now. So let's go, shall we?"

"I should _think_, being a _writer_ and all," Amy said, "that you'd be able to understand the artistic temperament a little better, Jo. Obliviously not."

Jo gave a snort. Theo went and put an arm about Amy's shoulders.

"You know what?" he said. "In the waiting room of the cancer center, they have an art exhibit called 'Illuminations'. They change it about every four months or so. Maybe someday they'll display some of your work there too, what do you think?"

"Really?" Amy looked at him with big eyes.

"Sure, why not?" Theo said. "You've done quite a lot with that new paint set, haven't you."

"Yeah...but it's not all that good," Amy hedged.

"I think it is," Theo said with a little smile. "It's much better than anybody would expect of someone your age. And in a few years more, when your talent matures, I think you'll be just as good as most of the artists who are displayed here, if not better. I really do. Granddad says the artwork is comforting and inspiring to the people who have to sit and wait on their loved ones in the cancer ward, and that the patients who regularly view the exhibits are happier and less apt to ask for more pain medication, and all that. Wouldn't it be something to think that your work might play a part in someone's recovery?"

"Well..." Amy looked thoughtfully at the building.

"Let's go see it," Hannah said. "Now that you mention it, I'm kinda curious myself."

"Ok," Amy said at last. And went in ahead of the others.

ooooo

Beth sat up in her bed, wearing a colorful scarf on her head, and also the new robe Aunt Patty had bought for her. She had lost a good bit of weight, and every bit of her pretty brown hair was gone now, but everyone tried not to act too shocked at the sight of her. Theo stayed in the waiting room, since the nurse didn't want so many people going into the room at once. Mrs. March kept him company so the sisters could visit in the hospital room.

"Thanks sooo much for bringing my book, Amy," Beth said as she hugged _The Birds' Christmas Carol_ to herself. "Kayla wants me to read it to her, even though it's only April. She'd never even heard of it. I...I just hope it's not too late."

"Where _is_ Kayla?" Hannah asked.

"In surgery," Beth said looking worried. "She's getting her bone marrow transplant."

"I brought you another book by the same author," Meg said handing it to her sister. "_Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm_. Have you seen it?"

"I've heard of it, but I didn't know it was by the same author, or I'd have read it ages ago," Beth said taking the book with shining eyes. It was a hardback edition with colorful illustrations. "Kate Douglas Wiggin. Yes, it's just the same! Thanks so much, Meg! I can't wait to read it. It looks so beautiful. It must have cost a lot?"

"She spent her last dime on it," Hannah said. Meg looked at her in protest, but Hannah pretended not to see. But at least she didn't tell Beth then and there that Meg had been wanting a new spring outfit, and had bought the book instead. One way or another, she would see that Meg got that new outfit.

"Did you get the part in the school musical, Meg?" Beth asked.

"They don't have tryouts until next week," Meg said. "But I will try out, I promise."

"You must," Beth said. "And I know you'll get the part."

"Here's Clarice," Jo said handing her the doll Beth had received for Christmas. "She was lonesome for you, I think."

"It's lovely to see her again," Beth said smiling as she set the doll on her bed table. "Jo! You got your hair cut."

Jo had hidden her cropped head under a cap, but had forgotten and taken off the cap to fan herself, it being rather hot in the room. She suddenly remembered and clapped it back on, but a bit too late.

"So I did," she said running a quick hand through the clipped locks. "You like?"

"But Jo, you had such beautiful hair," Beth said looking dismayed.

"It was getting to be a pain, washing and brushing it and all," Jo said with a little shrug. Amy and Meg looked away. "It's much cooler this way, for the summer. I might just keep it like this all year round. I was getting a little too vain of my hair anyway. Vanity and vexation of spirit, and all that happy hoss crap."

"Jo..." Beth looked at her with pained eyes. "You didn't do it for _me,_ did you? To make me a wig?"

She was pretty sharp, Jo had to admit. It came as a surprise.

"Well...maybe," she hedged.

"Jo, you didn't have to do that!" cried Beth. "I have my pretty scarf and all. I wouldn't have wanted you to cut your hair just for me."

"I'd shave my whole head if it would help you get well," Jo said with tears starting in her eyes. She ruthlessly tried to blink them back, having resolved she would NOT start bawling in front of Beth, no matter what. "Oh, and Theo wanted you to have this," she said, glad to have an excuse to bend over and pick up the case with the electronic keyboard in it. "He says the earphones are already plugged in, so you don't have to futz around trying to figure out which hole to put them in. He...he says you can have it, he doesn't even use it much anyway..."

It was no use. The tears spilled right over and pulling the cap down over her face to hide it did no good at all. Having an artistic temperament could be a royal pain sometimes.


	14. Out of the Matrix

14. Out of the Matrix

No one seemed to know what to do with a miserable Jo. She was usually the one who bucked up the others when they were down. Now she was down and no one seemed able to return the favor and buck her up. It was weird. Even Neville apologized to her for what he'd said on Facebook and offered to publicly retract it. His mom probably made him do it, but he did sound sincere.

They stayed at Aunt Patty's that night. It was a bit crowded, it being an apartment with two bedrooms. They tried watching a funny movie, _O Brother Where Art Thou_, but no one was much in the mood for it. Jo said she didn't much like modern-day updatings of old classics anyhow, and deliberately crunched her popcorn, more to irritate Neville than anything else. Yet he perversely refused to be irritated, and kindly explained the connections between the movie and Homer's _Odyssey_ to the others, who were not familiar with it and wished he'd shut up and let them watch it in peace. But he never could let anybody enjoy _anything _without intellectualizing it to death.

Their mom and Hannah slept in Aunt Patty's queen-sized bed, while she went to stay with her next-door neighbor, a middle-aged woman Aunt Patty called her "coffee buddy." Theo put up in Holden's bed, Meg let Amy sleep on the sofa in the front room while she took the recliner, and Jo crashed on the floor, where Aunt Patty had brought her an inflatable mattress.

"It massively sucks without Beth and Mom at home," she said after lights-out. "It's like there's this big gaping crater that's getting bigger and bigger and it's going to swallow us up any minute, like in some old cheesy sci-fi B-movie or something."

"That's kind of dramatic," Meg said from the recliner, "but I see exactly what you mean. First it was Dad, then when we finally got used to him being gone, it's Bethy and Mom. And I _can't_ get used to _that_."

"Me neither," Amy sighed, and no one bothered to correct her grammar. "I could put up with being a social outcast if only Beth would get well and come home again. I'd get over it somehow."

"I could easily endure wearing second-hand clothes and hand-me-downs," Meg said. "I'd wear them joyfully, if Beth would just come back and be like she was before. And Dad too."

"I'd cheerfully tolerate any b.s. anybody cared to throw at me," Jo said sitting up. She couldn't feel sleepy somehow. "I'd even quit bitching about having to dress up for Sunday school or go to Aunt Martha's. I'd help with the housework without thinking up ways to cut corners. Shoot, I'll even refrain from making fun of Neville after we leave here. Isn't it something that it takes a thing like this to make a saint out of somebody?"

"We should try to be good without something like this," Meg said. "That sounds so weird and old-fashioned, but it's true. I wish virtue came more easily to me. I believe in God with all my heart, but I just have to wonder why something like this is allowed to happen. Do you believe, Jo?" she asked rather timidly.

"I don't know what I believe any more," Jo said lying back on the mattress, locking her hands behind her head and drawing up her knees morosely. "I feel like nothing will ever be the same again. The world I've been living in is crashing all around me. Seems like I've been living in the Matrix, and now I'm seeing it for what it really is, a hollow painted empty shell. And all that. What if she doesn't get well? What are we going to do then? I used to try not to think about it. But now...it seems I can't escape from it any more."

She blinked back tears even though it was dark and no one could see her.

"We'll get through it somehow," Meg said in a small voice. "Other people go through it, and they survive."

"Other people don't have Beth," Jo pointed out.

"They have others just as dear to them. They get through it. I don't see how, but they do. That's what we'll have to do. It's all we _can_ do. It's how life is. It's not just one big happy dream."

Meg glanced guiltily at Amy after she had spoken, but saw she had fallen asleep by what little light came through the window.

"Beth is _special_," Jo said propping her head up on her hand and looking out the window at a neon sign advertising Pete's Bar & Grill. "She's like...the heart of the family or something. She's not like the rest of us. I could never picture her growing up, getting married, having a career and all. I can't imagine her out in the world. You and me and Amy, we can fight it, but it will hurt her. I heard Mom saying that to Hannah once. She said it worried her to death sometimes. What if she's just not meant to live long? What if she's just like this little angel that's been loaned to us for a while to bring out the best in us, or something? It's a nice idea and all, or would be in a story or something, but in real life, it's a whole 'nuther ball of wax, know what I mean?"

"Yes, but maybe we should try not to think of it like that," Meg sighed. "Mom said we should keep picturing her well and strong. We must keep that vision before us always. I'm going to do that...even if it's because I haven't the courage to do otherwise."

"Yeah," Jo said. She could hear Theo and Neville talking in the bedroom down the hall, although not enough to understand what they were saying. She heard them laugh a time or two, which puzzled and angered her a little. Were they totally clueless, or what?

No, she shouldn't be thinking that. It was Theo who had brought them here, after all, and his grandfather who had seen to it that Beth had the best possible care. He was their honorary brother now, as Jo herself had put it. According to his grandfather, his health had improved dramatically since he had known them, not quite half a year now. He'd grown at least an inch, his color was better and he had more energy and vigor, instead of moping around the house watching TV or playing video games, and he was doing better in his studies, having a more positive attitude and a happier outlook on life. And he just couldn't do enough for the Marches; he never quite took them for granted. He put up with Jo when she was being ornery and Amy when she was in drama-queen mode, and Meg when she was all droopy or wistful, or went all moral on them...Jo rather suspected he had a crush on Meg sometimes. And he was as protective of Beth as if she were his own child. Likely she meant almost as much to him as she did to her sisters.

So Jo supposed she was an ingrate to be ticked off at him just because he was laughing about whatever it was that so amused him. Just because she was in misery mode didn't mean the rest of the world had to drop everything to come to her pity party, did it? Still, she had a good mind to go and stand at the door and eavesdrop, but as she contemplated doing so, a yawning fit came over her, and first thing she knew, she found herself waking up in the morning with a flower in her hand...a pink carnation. Meg and Amy had one too, as did their mom and Hannah.

Yet the boys looked entirely innocent, and each blamed the other for the flowers and made quite a production about how sappy and ridiculous an idea it was. Theo suggested that the Gay Flower Fairy had snuck in last night and left the carnations, then Neville suddenly switched the conversation over to the subject of whether or not the sixth Star Wars movie in the franchise was worthy of the name or would prove to be the travesty that the fourth one was.

And so the girls had the flowers pinned to their clothing when they went back to the hospital to visit Beth.

ooooo

"Kayla's gone," Beth said, her eyes red, her scarf crooked on her head. "Miss Christy, that's my day nurse, she told me Kayla went home early this morning, but I don't believe her. She wouldn't have gone, just like that, without saying goodbye or anything. I think she died in the night."

"She did," her mother told her gently. "Miss Christy should have been truthful with you, but I'm sure she meant well. Some pediatric nurses just don't seem to distinguish between big kids and little ones, I think. I'm so sorry you lost your friend, but she was blessed to have had you as long as she did."

"I read the story to her last night, after she finally woke up from surgery," Beth said with a sniffle. "She asked me to. She loved it, she said. I wonder if she knew she wasn't going to wake up again, just like Carol in the story. I think maybe she knew. She just had this _look _all over her. It was so strange and beautiful, like it was Christmas...in April."

"I'm glad she got to hear the story," Meg said softly. Jo could think of nothing to say. She was too shaken. She had expected Kayla to pull through, for some reason. Why she should feel so upset over the death of a girl she had never even met was a mystery, but there it was.

Thank God it wasn't Beth, she thought.

Then a strange thing happened. Amy unpinned her carnation from her t-shirt and gently laid it on Kayla's bed, right on the pillow as if it were a tiny child. After a moment, Meg did the same with her flower, and Jo and Mrs. March and Hannah soon followed suit. Beth took the white rosebud somebody had placed in a little vase on her bedtable, and handed it to her mother who placed it among the carnations. And they all stood looking at the flowers for a long moment.

When the wig was finished, Mrs. March took a picture of Beth wearing it for the first time, and Neville uploaded it into his computer and sent it to her sisters. In the evening, Mrs. March called them up as usual.

"I _love_ the wig," Beth told them all. "It's so cool to have all my sisters' hair on my head, and even my 'brother's'. It would be too weird if it was some stranger's hair, but I don't mind if it's my own family members. I like that it's mostly your hair, Jo. I always liked your hair color the best of all of ours."

"You did?" Jo said, and could think of nothing else, remembering how odd Beth had looked in the photo with the wig on. Hardly like herself at all. Maybe it had just been the fluorescent lighting, like Hannah suggested.

"Yes. All our colors are pretty, but yours is my favorite. I must look kinda strange in it, though, it's so much darker than mine. Mine was blonde when I was little, like Amy's. I wonder why mine got darker and hers didn't."

"You got smarter," Jo said in a desperate attempt at a levity she didn't feel. Beth giggled. Amy kicked Jo's ankle, but Jo hardly noticed. Meg just smiled.

"Did you get the part in _The Music Man_, Meg?" Beth asked.

"Yes. I'm going to play Marian now."

"I hope I'll be home in time to see you in the show. You'll look so beautiful in the costumes, and I'll be so proud."

"Theo said he'd get it on camcorder," Meg said, "and put it on Youtube. So I'd better do the absolute best I can."

"You would anyway, you always do," Beth said. "And you'll try out for _Les Mis_ too this summer?"

"Yes. I think after what I've been through, maybe I'm a little better qualified to play Cosette now, or even Eponine. _The Music Man_ is all cute comedy and fluff, but _Les Miserables_ is, you know, sort of epic. You can't just be in it lightly."

"I'm sorry you had a bad time, Meg. I didn't want you to suffer on account of me."

"Well, at least I'll get _something_ out of it," Meg said with an attempt at a smile even though she knew Beth couldn't see her.

"Have you got a new roommate yet, Beth?" Amy asked.

"Yes. Her name is Tammy. I like her, but she's way different than Kayla. I don't think I'll read my book to her. I just don't think she would relate to it."

"I hope she doesn't go and die on you," Amy said.

"Amy," Meg reproved her. "Tammy might hear you, you know."

"It's ok, Meg," Beth said. "She's asleep now, or else I wouldn't be talking about her like this. And I'm better about Kayla now. She's in a better place, her big sister said. She came to get the rest of Kayla's things, and she gave me all the scarves, and a bracelet and a pretty ring. I try to wear them to remember her by, and to try to be brave like she was. She said she'd send me a picture of her too, how she looked before she got sick."

"I have a ring now too," Amy said. "Aunt Martha gave it to me."

"Aunt Martha? She came over?"

"No. I went to see her the other day with Jo and Meg."

"I thought you were scared of her house?"

"Well, Hannah wanted them to take me. It wasn't so bad since Jo and Meg were with me, and I was curious to see her jewelry, since Meg told me she had a lot, and her paintings and stuff too. And while Aunt Martha was taking her nap, we got out her jewelry box and looked at some of it, and I found this ring. Her maid said Aunt Martha had it when she was a little girl. I couldn't hardly believe Aunt Martha ever _was _a little girl. Then when she woke up, she said I could have it, 'cause she said I was such a nice girl to come see a cranky old woman and all. That's what she said. I felt kinda bad 'cause I didn't want to go and Hannah made me 'cause I was getting on her nerves and she needed a nap. I didn't like the paintings, they were all ugly. But I didn't tell her so. I think her house is icky. No sense of style _at all._ I sure wouldn't want to live there. She doesn't even have TV, or at least not a good one, and she only ever watches church on it. She has one of those turntable things with a big horn on it. Jo thinks it's cool, but it creeps me out. I wonder if she has _dinosaur bones_ in the cellar or something. But there was a stained-glass window that was beautiful."

"I'd love to see your ring, Amy. What's it like?"

"I'll show it to you next time I come. It's got blue opals. They're _gorgeous. _I almost fell off of my chair when I saw it. I wear it to be braver too," Amy added, although she had only just now thought of it.

"Good," Beth said. "We have something in common now. Besides being sisters and all."

"Yeah," Amy said. "She has a parrot too."

"I know. Does he still say badwords?"

"Sometimes," Amy giggled. "He called me a flibbertygibbet."

"That's not a badword, is it?" Beth giggled too.

"No. But it was funny. Then he said, 'What's the world coming to?' It cracked me up. He says 'Christopher Columbus' too. Gee, wonder who taught him _that_?"

"Wow, I can't _imagine_," Beth said. Jo grinned.

"How do you feel now, Bethy?" Hannah asked.

"Not so good. My bones hurt this morning. They gave me something for it, but it's making me feel all _bleaaahhh_. I _hate_ side effects. They said they might change my meds soon, though. Wow, it's so weird to be talking about meds like I'm an old lady or something."

"Hang in there, honey," Hannah said. Her voice shook a little.

"I hope I get to come home soon," Beth said. "I miss it a lot. A whole lot."

"And we miss you, Bethy," Meg said wiping tears from her cheeks.

"I'm reading _Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm _now. I really like it. Rebecca is so much braver than me. But then most everybody is."

"I doubt that," Hannah said. "Well. Maybe somewhere in all that gloomy place, there's a beautiful stained glass window, like in Aunt Martha's house."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just a silly notion that popped into my head. You hang in there, sweetie."

"Gah, what I wouldn't give to be back in the Matrix again," Jo said after they hung up the phone. "Meg...in case you're wondering why your pads are depleted...well, let's just say I lost my battle with the hormone fairy this morning."

"Really?" Meg grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

"Yep. High time, what? So I'm officially a woman now, I guess? Whoop de fricken' do. If you want my opinion, it's definitely not all it's cracked up to be."

"It gets worse," Hannah said as she came in from the laundry room. "Are you cramping up?"

"I was a bit this morning, but I took some aspirin and that helped," Jo said. "Well...at least now I'll have something to blame my orneriness on."

"Welcome to the fellowship," Meg said smiling in spite of everything.


	15. Shadows on the Moon

15. Shadows in the Moon

Jo wasn't sure what she expected to have happen now that she had been officially initiated into the Mysteries of Womanhood. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, looking for signs that she had "bloomed." Wasn't she supposed to have curves or something? She could detect little curvature, if any, and probably that little was in her imagination. Carefully she examined her face for zits, or any other signs of hormonal advancement. Well, she had a few freckles, but she had always had those. She would have missed them if they had disappeared. The stylish haircut did help some. She was slowly getting used to it. It softened the sharp contours of her face and made her eyes look bigger and more interesting, her nose a bit smaller...maybe. But she did not ask anyone, for that would have smacked of surrender.

That hormone fairy was a sneaky little bastard. No overnight transformations; they were coming along so slowly, she hardly noticed them until...until she started to really take notice of how much better Meg filled out her blouses than she did, and one day she was looking over her Hornet sweater and thinking maybe she didn't want to wear it any more and should toss it out...and then she laid it in her bottom drawer just in case. Stuff like that. And then she found herself wondering just what Theo really did think of her.

She had not known you could blush in the mirror.

Some girls looked pretty when they blushed. Meg, for instance. But I just look horrible, Jo thought clapping both hands to her cheeks.

_Eek. I wonder if there's a way to practice blushing. Like the time I came upon Amy practicing in the mirror how to cry pretty like in the movies. Yeah, right._

_Guess all I can do is practice not thinking about guys._

However, her concern about her inability to blush prettily was considerably overshadowed by her concern for Beth. Jo privately thought Beth needed a different roomie. Tammi, as far as Jo was concerned, was a spoiled, whiny little buttboil. A far cry from those patient, saintly little dying creatures in old-timey books. She was always on her cell phone gabbing and crying with her friends and her dad, going over every detail of her treatment and how she was missing all the good stuff at school and her favorite TV shows, and now her hair was starting to fall out and what was she supposed to do about _that, _huh? What if all her friends thought she was repulsive and forgot all about her? What was she supposed to do _then, _huh? Or what if she _died_?

Jo confided to Meg that Tammi made Amy look like Little Eva. Not exactly conducive to a quick recovery for Beth, in her not so humble opinion. Maybe they should transfer Beth to another room. Tammi probably wouldn't even notice.

Maybe she should just march on over there and give this Tammi a good piece of her mind.

Sure, why not?

And then Jo had to go and get into it with her English teacher.

She and Mr. Pemberton should have been on excellent terms. He was British and could be quite interesting. Sometimes he would pause in the lesson and give a little discourse of his own, such as on what expressive things eyes were. Students snickered at him behind his back, and tried to imitate his accent, some more successfully than others. Jo's feelings about him were mixed. Sometimes she thought he was pretty cool and other times she had to admit he could be a supercilious twit. He would read her stuff to the classroom when they wrote stories or poetry or essays, and would praise certain things about her writing to the students, with the strong implication that they should follow her example, and sometimes he would point out bits where she had perhaps overdone it with the diction, and read it aloud in a way that made her squirm.

This time she had written her essay about cancer, of all things. About how it affected people and all. His thick dark eyebrows shot up behind his glasses as he picked it up and looked at the title, then he looked at Jo, who looked rather fearfully back at him, then tried to look interested in the open textbook before her. She was not in a good humor when school let out for the day, for she was especially worried about Beth, and Amy seemed to be going out of her way to be annoying, even more than usual. Meg was working on learning her lines and songs. She would have Jo read other characters' lines to her so she could practice her own, but tonight she had gone over to Sally's. Sally's mom ran a bridal shop, and she was helping Meg and Sally make their costumes.

So that left just Hannah to talk to. She could have gone over and bugged Theo, but she was feeling a trifle shy of him lately, for some ridiculous reason.

Or maybe she just had a touch of PMS. Whatever.

Anyway, the next day Mr. Pemberton read her essay aloud to the class. He would usually perch his lanky frame on the edge of his desk to read, perhaps thinking it made him look more relaxed and at one with the students. After he finished reading it, he looked at Jo with puzzled eyes.

"A most well written composition, as usual," he said after clearing his throat in his usual manner. "Rather depressing, however. Too bad you couldn't come up with a more cheery subject. However, I suppose we can't be all sunshine and happiness every moment?"

A small collective gasp rippled over the classroom. Jo's mouth dropped open. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Cheery subject? _Cheery subject_? Did he really say that?

"Oh well...I suppose I could have come up with a more cheery subject," she said after she had gotten her bearings, sitting straight up in her desk, "such as, well, bake sales, or the joys of watching the sunset while you're taking your dog out to do his business, or the delights of hanging toilet paper on your neighbor's oak trees at Halloween, or...raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, or, or...any of that happy hoss crap, but seeing as how my _sister_ has _cancer_ and I've been absolutely _sick_ with worry over her day and night, you'll just have to _excuse _me if I couldn't come up with something less morbid, such as the simple pleasures of egging your least favorite teacher's _Buick_, or, or..."

Everyone was looking just as one would expect, gawking alternately at her and then at him to see how he was taking it, and he kept saying, "Miss Jo...Miss Jo..." all through her diatribe. Then he finally yelled, "MISS JO!" ramming his fist on top of his desk, and she shut her mouth, trembling all over, then stood up and headed straight for the door, after snatching up her books, making a most dramatic exit.

Of course she knew she had overreacted. There was no reason he should have known that the sister of one of his students was suffering from leukemia. She should have just quietly informed him of that fact, then he would have been ashamed and apologized to her for his ignorance of Beth's condition and expressed his sympathies. That was what Meg would have done, no doubt. Whatever had possessed her to go on in such a manner, she couldn't imagine. Sitting in the principal's office trying to explain her behavior, she felt stupid and mortified, and wished a huge vacuum cleaner would come through the window and suck her up into it, or that aliens would come along and abduct her, or whatever.

And she felt worse still at home having to explain to Hannah and Amy that she had been suspended. Again.

"So," Amy said with maddening blitheness, "are you going to stay home now and let Hannah teach the both of us? Now we just need Meg to get in trouble and then Hannah will have ALL of us to contend with."

"'The two of us,'" Jo corrected her. "And I suppose not. You're enough of a handful as it is. The last thing Hannah needs is_ two_ handfuls. Or handsful, or whatever the hell it is."

"Well, you're going to spend those three days studying, young lady," Hannah said, "so that you don't fall behind. And you can help me get dinner now. It's your turn anyway."

That was one of the things Jo loved about Hannah. She didn't slop all over you with sympathy and sweetness. Jo couldn't abide that sort of thing. Especially now that she felt like she would fly into a bajillion pieces at the slightest tap.

"Whatever you say, Hannah," she said, trying not to show her gratitude.

"And don't even think about getting smart with me, missy," Hannah told her, pointing the end of a wooden spoon handle at her. "I'm not in the mood."

"I feel lower than whale crap," Jo said. "Yeah, I know. It gets worse. And this weekend, I'm going up to the hospital and punch Tammi in the nose. Hang the consequences."

"Sure you are," Hannah said. "Here, start chopping up these onions. Might make you feel better."

Just after supper, the phone rang.

"Beth is coming home," their mother said.

ooooo

"So is she cured?" Amy asked anxiously.

"No," her mother said over the phone. "But she is doing well enough to continue her treatment at home...unless she gets worse. But she has been so homesick, I think it may have been affecting the treatment. Perhaps at home, she will be happier so it will be more effective."

"The only thing I'll miss," Beth said, "is Holden coming to visit me. He's been coming a lot, but you know that already."

Holden, Neville's brother, was nineteen and he lived and breathed football. His big ambition in life was to play for the Patriots. And he had been visiting Beth faithfully for the past two weeks, reassuring her over and over that she would get well and strong enough once more to see him play. He would sit and describe football plays to her, fondly supposing that the utmost desire of her little heart was to see him throw a forward pass, or score a touchdown. He was rather dim like that, but his heart was in the right place, and Beth adored him.

"I'll still come to see you, baby," he said, and Jo and Hannah grinned at each other, for some reason. "I wouldn't want to miss out on my li'l cuz."

Beth giggled. Amy grimaced and rolled her eyes, which Beth fortunately could not see.

"And you'll get to see _The Music Man_-live!" Meg said. "I think it's going to be just sensational...if everybody can just get their lines down. At least they manage to sing in tune most of the time."

Meg had gotten her lines down in just one week, even though she was one of the leads, while after four weeks everyone else was still struggling with theirs.

"Maybe I'll even get to see you in _Les Mis_," Beth said. "And I just can't WAIT to play my piano again! It was awful nice of Theo to give me his keyboard, but it's not the same. I just wasn't cut out to be a rock star, I guess."

Mrs. March brought her home the next afternoon. Beth had put her wig in two little pigtails, tied with pink ribbons, the ends curled up a bit. Mrs. March had drawn her some eyebrows with an eyeliner pencil, taking care to make them look as natural as possible. She didn't look well, Jo thought with an inner qualm, but she tried to keep a chipper face where Beth could see her.

Holden and Neville and Aunt Patty came down with them, since it was a Friday. They had a pizza party over at the Laurences', and they rented a couple of movies and bought some two-liter bottles of Coke and Sprite. First they all went down cellar to the gymnasium, where Jo and Theo had a fencing bout, which she won, much to the amusement of Holden and Mr. Laurence. Neville said he suspected Theo had let her win. Theo challenged him to a match, and he said he had never learned to fence, but he could play pool, he said, nodding at the billiard table. So they had a game, which Theo won, though not by much, and Jo was going to challenge Neville when she saw Beth looked tired. So she suggested they go back upstairs. Meg assured Beth that she had been going to Elizabeth's room to keep it up in her place. It had done her good, she said. It was good just to sit quietly for an hour and focus on things, and read some of the books, and just meditate on what was really important in life. Then Jo and Theo did a performance of "Shipoopi" from _The Music Man_, lip-syncing from the CD Theo had put on the player. It cracked everyone up. They almost forgot all about the movie until much later. Beth fell asleep halfway through it, although it was one of those warm-fuzzy family comedies she loved, her head on Jo's shoulder.

"I'm so glad to be home," she said much later as Mrs. March and Jo helped her get ready for bed. She would be sharing the room with Jo from now on. "I really am. I just wish I felt a whole lot better, is all."

And Jo realized then that Beth had barely touched her piano.

"Is it true you punched Mr. Pemberton in the nose?" she asked softly after the lights had been turned out. Jo gave a little snort. Beth giggled almost inaudibly. "Amy said you did."

"Only metaphorically," Jo murmured. "I punched him in his metaphorical nose. I somehow think he will survive."

"Have you had any trouble with Darcy Evans lately?" Beth asked a moment later.

"Nothing to speak of. I think she has a boyfriend now."

"She does? Have you seen him?"

"A time or two. He's nothing to write home about, to say the least. I think he's a druggie too. He's got 'pothead' written all over him."

"That's _terrible_," Beth said. "I _hate_ being a druggie."

Jo started. "You're not a druggie, Beth. Ugh, I just put those two words in one sentence. Scratch that."

"I feel like one," Beth said. "I have icky dreams sometimes."

"Really? How so?"

"I don't know how to describe them. I feel like I've turned inside out. Sometimes I get caught in this huge wad of goo and I can't get out. And sometimes I'm talking to a swarm of cells. They all have these weird ugly faces and they can't talk right. I try to talk to them and they don't understand that I want them to just go."

"I hope you don't have them any more. Maybe it will be different now you're at home. And don't have to put up with that Tammi person any more. Maybe she's that big wad of goo."

"You know what? Tammi said she would miss me. I think she meant it. She had tears in her eyes when I was leaving. That came as a huge surprise. I didn't think she liked me much."

"Did she?" Jo said. "Wow." She lay on her back, and glanced at the little candle that burned on the little table between the beds, then at Beth. It was weird and scary to see her lying there with her wig on the bedpost.

"She really did," Beth said. "I hope she gets well. She didn't have leukemia, you know. She had...I forget how you pronounce it. It's in her brain."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"It won't be easy for her."

"No...I guess not."

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of Beth turning on her side to look at Jo in the almost-darkness with eyes that looked like shadows in the moon.

"Jo," she whispered, and then she extended her hand over the bedside. Jo started to speak, then reached out to take her sister's hand without another word.


	16. Going with the Flow

16. Going with the Flow

It was weird to have Beth home again. It didn't seem the same place. Jo supposed she would get used to it, but she wished there were no need.

_There you go again,_ she scolded herself. _Bitching about things changing. You're just gonna have to learn to go with the flow, Jo March, that's all there is to it. Seeing as how you can't hold it back_.

_Geez, if that doesn't sound like one of Uncle Charles' jokes. Going with the Flo. 'Flo', get it?_

It was a little awkward going back to school after her suspension, but she was rather well received. Mr. Pemberton even apologized to her in front of the class. He'd had no idea her sister was so ill, he said, and he asked her how Beth was, and if there were anything he could do.

Jo decided he was a bit of all right, after all. Although she _was_ glad summer vacation was coming up soon, and she could postpone her plans for making herself a _What Would Meg Do_ bracelet. She'd probably make it the wrong color anyway.

Maybe she should cancel them permanently, for Meg had started dating Michael Mudge, the red-headed boy who played Professor Hill alongside of her in the musical. At first the only thing Jo really had against him was his name. "Meg Mudge"? She wasn't seeing it. When she brought up the matter to Meg-only in jest, of course-Meg got seriously offended, and wouldn't speak to Jo for the rest of the day and part of the next.

Their first date went well enough. He was cute, outgoing, fun to be with...at least at first. He was such a live wire. It seemed all the world was a stage to him, with him the only player, or at least, the lead player.

"I don't like 'Mudge' either," he told Meg when she brazenly informed him that Jo didn't like his name. "When I finish school and go into acting, I'm going to change it to Mulligan. It was my grandma's maiden name. Yep, she was Irish to the core. Michael Mulligan. Has a good ring to it, wouldn't you say? Not like those snooty Brit names."

Meg agreed it had a good ring to it, at the same time wondering if he considered "March" to be a snooty Brit name. She didn't ask him, however. She was reserved like that.

"My grandmother on my mother's side was Irish too," she saw fit to inform him. "Or, at least her parents were. Lizzie O'Phelan, her name was."

"That comes as no surprise," he said. "That's where you get those blue Irish eyes of yours, no doubt."

And he actually launched into "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling". She was surprised he knew the song.

"My granny had it on a record-a 78," he explained. "Grampa used to sing it to her. After he died, I sometimes had to sing it to cheer her up. Her other favorite one was 'Danny Boy'...naturally."

"Well, I think that's sweet," Meg said smiling.

They went to a dance at the Country Club, to which his folks belonged. They were fairly well to do, which Jo, strange to say, considered to be in his favor. He had an older sister; other than her, he was an only child, as he liked to say. She wore her white dress from last year, which he liked a lot, and he wore a spiffy suit, white also, and he brought her a white orchid hair corsage. So far, so good. Ok, Meg did wince a little inwardly when he introduced her to his friends as "my Shipoopi". It was only their first date, after all. He was a good dancer, on the dance floor as well as on the stage.

But then later on in the evening, he started to show off. It didn't help matters that he'd had a couple of drinks, that his cousin Jeff slipped him-Jeff being a college student of twenty-one or so. Michael tried to get Meg to take a drink also, saying, "C'mon, ya only live once," or something along those lines.

"I can dance without it," she said, trying to keep it light. "And so can you."

"Oh well, suit yourself," he said a moment later. "Ever see _Strictly Ballroom_? Where the guy gets tired of doing just the regulation steps, and starts throwing in his own?"

"Yes, but we're not professional dancers," Meg pointed out in some alarm, "and I don't think either of us are that good. This isn't even a ballroom really, and-"

"Not professional?" he said, then burped, and laughed. "Watch this tricky step, darlin'."

He whirled, with a hail of tapdance steps, jumping high and kicking out his legs, with the result that he kicked a guy who didn't have sense enough to get out of the way.

"What the..." Evidently the kickee had had a few drinks too, because he let fly with a barrage of profanity and threats, doubling up his fists. Michael apologized profusely, then a man came along and said, "Hey hey hey now, break it up, break it up! What's this about?"

In the end, both Michael and the other guy had to leave, and Meg was mortified, although he kept apologizing, and the other guy tried to pick a fight, but his partner and the security guard managed to dissuade him. Meg wouldn't let him drive her home, and called Hannah to come get her. Michael insisted he'd never drink or show off again if she would only go out with him again.

Needless to say, Jo was profoundly disappointed and disgusted when Meg relented, and said she'd go out with him as long as he behaved.

"I think he's learned his lesson," Meg insisted. "He made a fool of himself, like I did once. But he'll do better next time. He wants us to go see the ballet that's coming here...and he's invited you and Theo to go with us."

"Did he now?"

"Yes...and he's paying for the tickets." Meg lifted her eyebrows at Jo meaningly.

"Well, in that case...who's driving?"

"Michael, of course. And no, he won't do any drinking. He promised me."

"How about we let Jeeves take us? I'm betting that's the only way Mom'll let us go."

"Well..."

"Besides, the snoots will be impressed," Jo said artfully, "seeing us with a real live chauffeur and everything. Not but what Michael's car isn't so fancy-shmancy or anything. But still."

"Ok then," Meg said after a slight hesitation. "If Theo is on for it."

"So what do we wear?" Jo asked. "Our party threads?"

"We can just wear our nice clothes, like for church and all," Meg said repressing a little sigh. "I don't have any money left to buy anything new. And I've got a new job, but I haven't gotten paid yet."

"Won't Mom advance you the money? Seeing as how you went and bought Beth that book and all, and didn't buy yourself that new outfit like you wanted."

"I'm not going to ask her. I'm supposed to have sworn off my materialistic tendencies, and my old stuff will do just fine."

"You go, girl," Jo said giving her a little sock on the arm. "I finished my book, by the way."

"Did you? So does Lady Elianna turn into a vampire?"

"Yeah. I decided all that redeeming people with your ineffable purity stuff was sooo old hat. And everybody says it doesn't happen anyway. That people are more likely to pull you down to their level than you are to raise them up to yours, and so forth. Actually I kinda knew that, but it seemed to me in a novel, you should get beyond it and all, reach for the stars and all that happy hoss crap. But...well, I better not spoil it for you. You can read it for yourself, soon as I get it all typed up and all. I doubt you could plow through my chicken-scratch. I read it to Beth, and she loved it."

"Don't you have it posted on your LiveJournal?"

"Some of it, but not the whole enchilada. About half really. I got on a roll, and wrote the rest of it almost in one sitting. Probably needs a _lot _of work. But at least I got me a bona fide rough draft."

And then the darndest thing happened. Jo found herself wanting new clothes.

It was embarrassing, to say the least. How was she going to get them without everyone else giggling over her? The money wasn't the object-she had enough saved up to buy a decent outfit, with some left over, as long as she didn't go to some fancy-ass boutique whose price tags covered more skin than the clothes did. It was the triumphant smirks she didn't want to face. She could just see dear old Uncle Charles' face. _Our Jo is finally growing up. She's blossoming into a woman at last. What do you want to bet she's got her sights on some likely young man? Perhaps that rich young feller across the street from her?_ Ack. She'd never hear the end of it.

Then suddenly it came to her.

"Well, I don't think I can go," she said about three days before the big day. "I tried on my red just in case, and it seems I've grown since the last time I wore it. Let's just say that if I were to bend over in it, my tattoo would probably show. Besides, there's those stains."

"Jo, you're NOT going to wear that!" Meg cried predictably. "Just wear your church dress...or did you outgrow that too?"

"What church dress? I haven't worn a dress to church since I was twelve. Guess I'll just have to wear my basics. Well, with something over them, of course."

"Can't you buy something new? You've got some money, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't know what to buy. I'm not a shopper like you are, Megs."

"Well, silly-puss, why didn't you ask me? I was so preoccupied with other things, it didn't even occur to me to worry about what you'd wear. Maybe I _am_ making some progress, after all. Let's go to the mall now before the stores close."

And so Jo ended up with a most striking outfit. Dark grey silky stuff, with a flaring skirt that flattered her thin figure, and a silver linked belt. Understated, yet classy. Amy had bugged them into taking her along, and they got her not so objective opinion.

"It looks like it was made for you," she said. And Meg was in agreement.

So Jo had herself a dress. They had to buy her some jewelry to go with it. A chain of silver, with a pendant of red glass. Modern but not too blingy, as Jo put it. And even a pair of new shoes, although not too pricey, and with low heels.

"Hi Meg," a girl spoke as they ambled past the boutique where Meg used to work. Jo started as she saw Bobbi Fulmer, whom she knew as a rather mousy type of girl with glasses and drab clothing, standing by the entrance in a black sequined off-the-shoulder top that stopped just short of her navel, a black skirt that stopped just short of her crotch, and high-heeled black faux suede boots that came to about an inch and a half below the hem of her skirt. Her hair was dyed a purplish black, which worked better than it should have since she was a natural brunette, and she must have been wearing contact lenses. "Hi, Jo, hi, Amy."

"Hi Bobbi," they all chorused. Jo could see other girls dressed similarly standing about the boutique, some talking to customers, others just strutting their stuff.

"Or should I say Marian," Bobbi said with a smile. "Congratulations, Meg. I think you're exactly right for the part."

"Thanks, Bobbi," Meg said. "I guess," she added with a little giggle.

"Cute haircut, Jo," Bobbi said.

"Thanks," Jo said. "It's kinda starting to grow on me." That was a little joke that was really starting to get old, but it was rather lost on Bobbi. Jo liked her though. She was a good kid, in spite of her current get-up. Her mom was an alcoholic who regularly tried to get back on the wagon, only to fall off again when she took up with a new boyfriend. She had phenomenally lousy taste in men. It had to be hard on Bobbi.

"Meg says you cut it to make a wig for Beth," Bobbi said. "That was awful nice of you, Jo. How _is_ Beth now?"

Meg glanced downward. "I think she's getting a little better," she said, "although it's hard to tell sometimes. The chemo makes her so sick and droopy all the time."

"Oh," Bobbi said sympathetically, "that's too bad. She's such a little sweetie. Oh, and I saw that video you guys made on Youtube. It was pretty scary. Wish I could do stuff like that. I like scary movies when they're not too gory."

"The one of my dramatization of 'The Fall of the House of Usher'?" Jo said, glad to be off the subject of Beth. Bobbi nodded. "Thanks. I was rather proud of that one myself. Theo's house provided a great backdrop."

"You made a great zombie, Meg," Bobbi said. "I wouldn't have thought it."

"I wasn't a zombie," Meg said. "I was buried alive, and went mad from it."

"Well, you sure scared the pee out of me," Bobbi said with a shudder. "You were _very_ convincing. Great camera work too, Jo."

"Thanks," Jo said again, and her cheeks grew warm. She hoped she didn't look too hideous. "Maybe one of these days, we can film my book. I think it would make a better movie than a book. I'd love to see Meg play Lady Elianna."

"This dress is sooo hot," Amy said pausing before a mannequin wearing a red little number with sequins. "Can I try it on? It looks like my size."

"Forget it," Jo said bluntly. "Mom wouldn't let you out of the house in that thing. Plus people would call out the fire department if they saw you coming in it."

"Says the eternal fashion victim," Amy retorted.

"Says the blonde," Jo said.

"Jo's right, Amy," Meg said reasonably. "Mom would never let you put on a thing like that."

"I just wanted to _try_ it," Amy pouted. "I wanted to see myself glammed up for a change."

"Don't you mean slutted up?" Jo said. "There _is_ a difference, kid sister. Forget about it already."

Amy stuck out her tongue at Jo, who promptly returned the compliment.

"Come on, you guys, cut it out," Meg said. "So how's it going here?" she asked Bobbi.

"Same old, same old," Bobbi said. "I miss you here, Meg. They hired Lana Babcock in your place-maybe you know that already. I can't stand her. I wish you were still here."

She jerked her head in the general direction of one of the girls at the back of the shop. One of the ones strutting her stuff. Lana Balrog, as Jo privately called her, was a sort of Bella Moffat wanna-be, who made Jo like Bella a lot more.

"Wow, she looks like she's waiting to turn a trick," Jo said.

"Jo," Meg said in a loud whisper, looking at Amy, who was looking Lana's way with a puzzled and expectant expression, probably waiting for her to turn a cartwheel or something. Bobbi giggled, then sobered.

"I don't think I'm going to last much longer here," she said in almost a whisper. "I don't like Amanda Rittermeier either. She's our supervisor," she explained when Jo raised her eyebrows. "She is kind of a bi-" She stopped short as she looked at Amy. "Big pain," she corrected herself. "I've applied at two other places, but I don't know if I'll get a good reference from this place, especially since I've only been working here since December. I may be stuck here for who knows how long."

"I'm baby-sitting for the Beardens' now," Meg said. "They have a little baby girl, and she sleeps most of the time I'm there, so there's never much to do. She's only four months old, and I love to hold her. And they don't mind if I watch their TV, and Mrs. Bearden drives me home. She's a sweetheart. Mr. Laurence referred me to them. I'll ask him if he can maybe find something better for you too. You shouldn't have to cheapen yourself here."

"That's good of you, Meg," Bobbi said. "So...are you dating Michael Mudge now? I heard you went out with him."

"We're going to the ballet this weekend," Meg said. "That's why we're here. To get some new clothes."

Bobbi gave a little whistle. "Wow! Well, I hope you have a great time," she said. "I'd better get back to work. I can feel Amanda giving me dirty looks. Soon she's going to chew my butt out for somebody else's screw-up."

"I had hoped that shop would go out of business," Jo said as the sisters went their way. "Looks like it's well and thriving though. Drat the luck."

"Well, I don't care," Meg said. "I have a job now, and I'm glad to be out of there. I don't like Amanda Rittermeier either."

"What about me?" Amy asked. "Don't I get to buy anything?"

"Sure, as long as you have the money and it's not something Mom would make us take back," Meg said. "What is it you want?"

"Some new _clothes_," Amy said with a pathetic little sigh and big puppy eyes aimed mostly at Meg, who, Jo had to admit, was a bit of a pushover. At least where Amy was concerned. "Everything I've got looks like crap. I don't see why I have to go around looking like a homeless person, just because I don't go to school and nobody wants to associate with me. If I just had something decent to wear, maybe people would see I'm not so horrible and they'd want to be friends again."

"Oh, wow," Jo said. "So you want to be liked for your clothes. That's some value system you've got there, kid sister."

"What's the matter, can't you see I'm ignoring you?" Amy said. "Please, Meg. Pretty please? And I _can't_ go to the ballet in anything I've got now."

"Who says you're going?" Jo said rudely.

"I do," Amy said.

"Since when?"

"Since forever. Theo promised to take me, and he hasn't yet. So I'm going, and that's that."

"Not with us you're not," Jo said. "We've already bought the tickets, and our seats are reserved. What are you going to do, stand in the aisle and watch? I dare say it's sold out by now."

"I can buy my own ticket," Amy said. "I've got enough money for that, at least."

"Honey, you can't sit by yourself," Meg reasoned. "Mom's working that night, but maybe Beth and Hannah could go with you."

"Hannah doesn't like ballet," Amy said. "She says she doesn't get her jollies watching people exercise, and besides it makes her feel like a hippopotamus. And Beth's too sick to do much of anything. I want to go with you anyway. I'm _dying_ to go. Please, Meg, let me go with you?"

"No way, José," Jo said.

"What part of 'I'm not talking to you' didn't you get, Jo?" Amy said snottily. "Meg? I never get to do _anything_ that's fun. Just stupid kid stuff."

"Such as whining when you don't get your own way?" Jo said.

"Maybe she could come with us," Meg suggested to Jo, who rolled up her eyes. "She _was_ promised, after all. And she's been pretty good recently, you know. There was that time when she-"

"What's she going to do, sit on Theo's lap?" Jo said. "She'd love that, I'm sure. The way she's been simpering around after him for weeks on end now."

"Jo! She has _not _been simpering around after him," Meg reproved her. Amy's mouth had dropped nearly to its limit and she was the color of the dress she had been admiring. "Why are you being so mean?"

Jo clamped her lips together. She and Amy had fallen out that morning because she hadn't wanted Amy tagging along to the shopping trip, but Meg had given in to her because, ohhh, poor little Amy never had _any _fun, she was tired of TV, she was out of Cadmium Orange or whatever it was called, Beth did nothing but sleep and throw up any more, nobody would come over to see her, etc. etc. And now she wanted to tag along on a double date, of all things.

Plus Jo's worry over Beth was making her feel a trifle pissy.

"Fine," she said after a moment. "She can go in my place. I wouldn't get on much with Michael anyway. He's me with a penis. One of us is enough. Here, Amy. This'll probably look better on you anyway."

"I don't want your silly dress," Amy said shoving away the plastic bag Jo held out to her. "It's not my size or my color. I want a dress of my own."

"How are you going to buy a dress _and_ a ticket?" Meg said. "You surely don't have enough money for both."

"I was hoping you might lend me some," Amy said. "Now that you've got a job and all?"

"I will, but you still can't go with us," Meg said. "I'll lend you some so you can go another time, and have a pretty dress. Although I think you've got plenty of nice things already. Let's go to that store over there. They have good clothes, and it's not too expensive."

"You guys go ahead," Jo said feeling a little ashamed of her behavior, yet too ornery and stubborn to apologize, which would only have given way to more nagging from Amy anyway. "I'll sit out here and wait. I don't feel like going into another damn clothes shop."

"Language," Meg said to her with lifted eyebrows. Amy looked on the verge of tears.

And the look she gave Jo over her shoulder as she and Meg went off to the shop gave Jo a little shiver. It was her _Just you wait_ look on steroids.


	17. Cookies on the Dark Side

17. Cookies on the Dark Side

_Ok, hormone fairy, you little sick-joke artist you. This isn't funny any more. What have you done with the real Jo? You know...the sensible Jo who was going to avoid romantic entanglements and embrace a life of independent spinsterhood, serving humanity by writing literary gothic novels and screenplays that would enrich and enlighten, and likely spawn a bajillion atrocious fanfics? The clever Jo who was content to be the gorgeous heroine's wise-ass sidekick, wistfully watching her waltz off into the sunset with the handsome hero at the end? The selfless Jo who was going to take care of her family in their sunset years?_ _Where did you put her? Bring her out before I make a greasy spot out of you with my thumb._

_Threaten all you like, sweetcheeks, _cackled the hormone fairy with gleeful malice. _That Jo is history. And this Jo has a zit on her forehead, just above her left eye. That's right, part your hair on the other side so your bangs will cover it up. Yes, much better. Heheh. You know what the best part is?_

_And that would be? Not that I care or anything. Just curious._

_Someday you're gonna love my crazy ass. You wouldn't go back even if you could._

_Sez you! _

_Heheh. Denial. It's not a river in Egypt, yanno._

_Oh my, aren't we just dripping with originality? Sooo cute._

_Snark off all you like, me darlin, but you know you can't win. You're my bitch now, and I own you._

_Ok, that effing does it. Where's the fly swatter?_

The dress. Time to put it on. She had done all with her hair that could be done, and it still wasn't right. Maybe she could borrow Beth's wig...

Time was when she would have run a comb through it a time or two, and been ready to rumble.

She watched herself sigh in the mirror. _Great. You can't even sigh pretty_.

"Jo, who are you talking to?" her mother asked as she cracked the bedroom door and peeked in, Meg and Beth close behind. "Why, you haven't even got your dress on."

"Just a sec." Jo lifted the dress from her bed and put it over her head.

"You've got it backwards," her mom said. She went and helped Jo straighten it out, and zip up the back. "There now. Let me comb your hair down in back. Now turn and let me see you."

Jo turned for her inspection, at the same time catching her reflection in the mirror. Well now, that wasn't so bad. Whatever her mom had done with her hair, it worked.

Beth and Meg timidly inched into the door way as though afraid Jo would bark at them.

"Jo, you look fabulous!" Beth exclaimed. "Doesn't she, Meg."

"She certainly does," Mrs. March said, although she was not the one addressed. Jo was about to say, "Does this skirt make my butt look big," when she suddenly got a gander at Meg.

She was in pink, no pale, insipid baby pink, or that god-awful bubble-gum Barbie-doll pink, or a garish hot pink, but a luscious soft rich pink that you could have gotten down and wallowed around in, pulling off bits and eating them. Jo couldn't recall ever seeing that dress before. She would surely have remembered it. No color could possibly have suited Meg better. She had never looked so...so _Meg_ before.

"Woah," Jo said finally, "I thought you weren't going to get a new dress?"

"I wasn't," Meg said looking as sheepish as possible. "Hannah bought it for me. She said she was passing by the consignment shop this morning and there it was, just my size and only twenty dollars. Or so she said."

"She said Meg deserved that dress, after spending all her money on my book," Beth said. "She said Meg could have gotten me a cheap paperback edition of it and had plenty left over to buy her dress, but instead she wanted me to have a beautifully illustrated and new hardback copy. She got you something too, Jo. It's in the front room."

Jo was speechless. There it was again, ol' Green Eyes. And she could hear the hormone fairy snickering up its sleeve.

"You are both equally lovely in your own way," Mrs. March said, and her sincerity was unmistakable.

"You really do look gorgeous, Jo," Beth said. "Mom's not just saying that. It's true. I didn't know you could look so stylish. That style and that color are just right on you."

"Yeah, Snow White and Rose Red," Jo said. "Well, maybe now it's Charcoal Grey and Camellia Pink...or whatever that shade is."

"Your necklace," Meg reminded her, and she picked it up herself and fastened it around Jo's neck. "Just the right touch, and it will go with... How do those shoes feel?"

"Fine," Jo said, fighting off an urge to get a handful of that pink. And damn it all, Meg was wearing makeup, never mind the small fact that she didn't need it. She had a touch of glittery blue stuff on her eyelids, and she was surely wearing mascara too, although her eyelashes were long and dark already. And blusher on her cheeks, although they were plenty pink enough, and lipstick a shade or two darker than her dress. It all looked done by a professional, although Jo knew Meg had put it on herself. Her hair was done up high in back with long curls coming down, with some kind of sparkly thingy holding it in place.

So Jo was just as lovely in her own way? Crap.

And to top it all off, Meg looked slightly embarrassed about the fact that she was a certifiable knockout. Not that she was about to ugly herself up on Jo's account, or anything.

Jo wondered if anybody would be fooled if she suddenly developed a migraine headache.

Where was Amy, by the way?

"Amy's in the front room with Emily," her mom said as if she had heard Jo's thought. "They're having a sleepover here tonight. They wanted to have it at Emily's, but with Beth the way she is...Well, the slightest injury could give her a nasty infection. So I'd just as soon have her where I could keep an eye out."

Beth was sitting on her bed now, petting Mimi, whom they'd had declawed for the reason their mother had just stated, even thought Mimi had never used her claws on Beth even when she was a kitten.

Amy had been acting so angelic that Jo was a trifle suspicious. What _was_ she up to?

"Wait a minute," Meg said. "Your hair. Be right back." She flurried to her room and soon returned with her electric curling iron. "It's still hot. I don't even need to plug it in. Here..."

She approached Jo with the thing, and Jo did not even back away, but surrendered her head to the gleaming silver instrument, which Meg deftly applied to sundry locks of Jo's hair.

"There now!" she said as she fluffed up her handiwork with her skillfully manicured fingers. "Now look at yourself."

"Wow!" Beth said softly, with very round eyes.

Jo looked. Hmm. Her bangs sprang in graceful curls over her forehead with a jaunty effect that was actually becoming.

"Now your makeup," Meg said. "Let's play up those eyes a little. I think a bit of green. Goldy green. A teeny bit of shadow beneath. A bit of lipstick-yes, red to go with your necklace. There, that's what the beautician ordered, don't you think, guys?"

"Jo, you're gorgeous!" cried Beth with wide eyes. "Look at her, Marmee." That being the girls' childhood name for their mother, which Beth still used occasionally.

Jo stood transfixed, just looking at herself. She thought of the times when standing with their mom in the supermarket checkout and looking at the covers of the tabloids when they featured actresses without their makeup, thinking how plain and ordinary some of them looked, in contrast with the faces they presented to the public. _Damn,_ she thought inelegantly. _I'm not bad at all. Not. bad. at. all._

"Jo, I really didn't know you were so lovely," her mother said in wonder, reaching out to touch Jo's cheek. "Your eyes look bigger and darker, and there's a fleck of gold in them. They're like your father's eyes...except his don't have those flecks in them."

Now that should have made her feel better.

"Meg, you're a magician," Beth said smiling.

Jo could feel herself blushing furiously, and she didn't dare turn back to the mirror to look.

"Wait," she said, "shouldn't we cover up my freckles?"

She simply could not believe she had actually said that.

"Of course not," her mother said. "Your freckles are cute. They're like cinnamon sprinkled on creamy icing."

"I've noticed the only people who think freckles are cute are those who don't have them," Jo said, yet she smiled.

"I have them," her mother said smiling also, "in the summertime, when I used to go swimming. I should go more."

It was then Jo noticed how much older and more tired her mother was looking.

"The boys are here," Beth said as a sound outside the window attracted her attention. She went to look, picking Mimi up in her arms.

"Let's go," Jo said finally. "I'm not gonna turn into one of those irritating divas who likes to keep her dates waiting. I'm not _that_ hot. Dang, where's my sweater? Here it is under the bed. Ratty old thing. I don't think I'll wear it, it's not very cold out anyway."

Actually it _was_ rather chilly, or would be so later on, but that sweater was simply out of the question. She'd just tough it out.

"You won't need it," Meg said with a mysterious little smile. "Come on."

Amy and Emily were sitting on the couch looking at a photo album when the older girls came in. Emily was a chubby little girl of thirteen, who, like Beth, looked younger than her age. Before getting kicked out of school, Amy had made comments about Emily's weight, and said she'd get really fat soon, and then they should be embarrassed to be seen with her. _How will she make US look_? she'd asked with typical Amy logic. However, she did not seem to consider it such an issue now.

"Look at this one of Jo when she was a kid," she was saying as she pointed out one of the pictures in the album. "Don't you think she looks kinda like that creepy girl in _The Orphan_?"

"I haven't seen it," Emily said. "Why is she making that face?"

"Maybe she's thinking about her baby sister," Jo said as she and Meg entered the room. Emily started. Amy looked up blandly.

Emily actually made an attempt at a wolf-whistle. "Wow!" she said. "You guys look _amazing_!"

Jo wondered if she had been taking vocabulary lessons from Sally Gardiner.

"Look, Jo," Beth said. "Here's what Hannah got you."

She held up a sweater of a rich soft cranberry red. Jo's eyes widened.

"Wow," she said as she took it and caressed the sleeves. Angora, or Jo was Paris Hilton. "That's really spankin'. Where's Hannah?"

"Here," Hannah said appearing in the doorway. "Like it? I thought it had your name on it."

Jo looked at it as though expecting to see "Jo March" embroidered on it somewhere. It had tiny faux pearls stitched around the neck, and little pearly buttons up the front. She laid it over her shoulders.

"Thanks, Hannah," she said smiling.

"Well, look at you," Hannah said.

Theo and Michael came in just at that moment.

"Well, just look at you," was Theo's remark, even though he had not heard Hannah say it. There really was admiration in his eyes.

Michael was smitten speechless at the sight of Meg, which only went to show how stunning she really did look. All he could do was stand there staring goggle-eyed and open-mouthed at her. Yet somehow he was the sort of guy who could get away with that look. It was actually rather cute on him, kind of Jimmy Olson meets Justin Timberlake.

Then Theo noticed Meg. That wasn't so cute.

The nasty feelings came back all of a sudden. They must have missed Jo rather badly. She told herself she was the queen of the ingrates, when Meg had just made her look the best she'd ever looked. She didn't deserve to be Meg's sister.

She knew this, yet the feeling remained. It was all the hormone fairy's fault.

_Welcome to the dark side, Jo March,_ he/she/whatever snickered in its worst Darth Vader imitation. _Yes, we do indeed have cookies. But nobody ever said we'd share them._

"I wish I had sisters," Emily said wistfully, snapping Jo out of her fairy-imposed miasma. "Beautiful ones, like you guys. All I've got is a brother, and he's a pain in the you know what."

"Be careful what you wish for," Amy said, a split second before that exact sentiment popped into Jo's brain.

ooooo

"This is Jeeves," Theo introduced his driver to Michael. "Well, actually his name is Douglas, but that sounds too much like some guy in a Hawaiian shirt who wears socks with his sandals, and thinks he looks sexy when he's eating an ice-cream cone. Everyone should have a Jeeves."

"We have one," Jo said. "Her name is Hannah."

The others laughed.

"So," Michael said as they rolled along, "is everybody geared up for _The Music Man_ next weekend? I'm actually starting to get nervous. Got your costume ready, Meg?"

"Oh yes," Meg said. "Mrs. Gardiner is a genius at putting costumes together and improvising. She studies the periods and the years and gets the details just right, instead of assuming the audience is too dumb to know one era from the other. I've got three gorgeous outfits now, including a perfectly adorable hat."

"I can hardly wait to see you in them," Michael said. "Wait till you see mine. I put it together myself. It's pretty snappy if I do say so. Wish you were in it too, Theo. Meg says you can sing. Think you'll try out for _Les Mis_ this summer?"

"Yeah," Theo said. "It'll give me something different to do at least. How about you?"

"Definitely. I want to be Enjolras, or Thenardier. Although I probably won't get either one. The older and more experienced ones will snag all the juicy parts, and us kids will get what's left over. Except Meg will get Cosette, she was made to play that role."

"Mr. Wexler will play Valjean, I know," Meg said. "He has before, and he's _exactly_ right for it. He has that rugged, haunted look about him, yet hopeful and determined."

"That's what bein' a teacher'll do to ya," Michael said with a wink.

"Who's Mr. Wexler?" Theo asked.

"Our choir director at school," Meg said. "Theo, you should try out for Marius. I think you look the part, don't you, Jo?"

_If he gets it, he'll be singing love duets with Meg,_ thought Jo. There it was again.

"I don't sing that good," Theo said. "I've had no voice training whatsoever. Besides, Brooke plans to try out for it. I think he'll get it."

"He is?" Meg said sitting up a little straighter. Jo stared at her. "I didn't know that."

"Maybe you should get him to give you voice lessons," Jo said.

"Who's Brooke?" Michael asked.

"My tutor," Theo said. "Jo, you should try out too. You could be in the chorus, at least."

"I'd like to be a revolutionary," Jo admitted, "but there's just one small problem, namely my inability to carry a tune in a paper sack. I'd end up getting shot for real."

"You're not that bad, Jo," Meg said. "You _can_ sing in tune when you know the song well."

"Don't I have to sing to audition?" Jo said. "Errgh."

"I'll coach you," Meg said. "We can use something simple. Maybe Mr. Brooke could help too."

"Ummm," Jo said. "Wouldn't it be nice if I _could_ sing? I could play Eponine. I really like her. Or even Madame Whatsername. She's so wonderfully ghastly. I wouldn't even have to be that good of a singer, would I?"

"What do you want to bet Lana Babcock will play Eponine?" Michael said. "I hear she's got her eye on the part. Last summer her sister would have played her, and stolen the whole show. Too bad she was the one that had to go and get herself killed."

"I heard she wanted to play Marian," Jo said. "Imagine that. That would be about like Ozzy Osbourne playing Jesus."

The others laughed.

"I take it you're not fond of her?" Theo said.

"I like cats on four legs," Jo said. "I can't abide cats on two legs."

It was a moment before the irony of what she had just said registered with her.

ooooo

The theater was one that had been in the city for nearly two hundred years, with white columns and a little fountain out front, with benches flanking it. Plays, operas, ballets, concerts and fund raisers were all held there.

"Well, here we are," Theo said as the car pulled up before the theater. "Well Jeeves old man, thanks much," he said in his best Bertie Wooster imitation, which actually wasn't very good, but it usually made Jo laugh. "We should do this more often."

Jo saw the Moffat girls on the other end of the lobby with their dates, and lo and behold, there was Eddy, with Sally Gardiner yet. Yes, Meg had mentioned they were dating.

_Guess she likes being used, huh_, Jo had said.

_What do you mean?_ Meg said frowning.

_Why, he's using Sally to make you jealous,_ Jo said in surprise. _I can't believe I even had to point that out to you._

_Jo, must you be so cynical? People can change, you know._

_Can, yes. Do...nope, don't think so. Not Eddy Moffat, at least._

_Sally says he treats her really nice._

_Does he? Now I'm _really _suspicious._

Meg had looked just a bit sad then. So she did like Eddy more than she would let on.

"Well well, speak of the devil," Michael muttered through his teeth as they stood in the lobby, glancing about to see who was there, Jo contemplating asking where the popcorn machine was. "If it isn't Lana Babcock, in all her glory. There's gonna be trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with B and that stands for Babcock."

"Lana Balrog, eh?" Jo said. "She shall not pass."

Lana had just walked in with her date, with her usual _Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair_ demeanor. She was about a year older than Meg. Her older sister, Diana, had been a beauty queen-gorgeous, talented, smart, popular, and with a million-dollar personality to top it all off. And last summer, just after being chosen to participate in the Miss USA pageant, this paragon had been killed in a car crash, and poor Lana was living in her shadow while desperately and defiantly pretending she was all her own woman. Not that she was any epic failure as to looks, brains, and talent, but when it came to personality... As far as Jo was concerned, she had all the charm of a root canal, and the charisma of a mad scientist's hunchbacked assistant on crack.

No...of course she wasn't jealous.

The look on Lana's face when she saw Meg was something to see. Jo had to suppress a grin at the thought of Lana's reaction when Meg had snagged the role of Marian, while Lana was assigned to play one of the snooty ladies. Mr. Wexler did know a little something about casting.

And then there was the fact that Lana was nuts about Eddy Moffat. Not that she had ever said so, in so many words, where the March girls could hear. But there was the way she kept bringing up the subject of him in such a carefully offhand manner, and the look in her eyes when someone asked Meg about him in Lana's presence. Like she'd love to get her hands around Meg's throat in half a heartbeat.

_That's you in a couple of years, _the hormone fairy whispered to Jo. _You're already getting there._

_Shut up,_ she told it through mentally clenched teeth.

Sally had mentioned that Eddy had dated Lana a time or two, although she couldn't have told what had passed between them. She was a natural-born gossip, but there was little malice in her.

"Why, Meg!" Lana exclaimed, recovering her composure with astonishing speed. "Fancy seeing you here! Hi, Michael."

She was wearing a dress that seemed composed of flashing gold and copper scales, with tiny shoulder straps. It might have been in good taste on a dance floor, but at a ballet it was rather like hanging a disco ball in the Oval Office. Her dark hair was chopped off in a funky razor cut that seemed an obvious act of defiance of her sister, who had worn hers down past her waist. Although she was tall already, she wore heels that had to be at least six inches high...because she could, Jo supposed.

"Hi, Lana," Meg and Michael chorused. The lack of enthusiasm in their voices tickled Jo.

"I guess you've met my sister Jo?" Meg said. "This is our friend Theo. Theo, Lana Babcock."

"Hi, Theo," Lana said. Her date, a guy Jo didn't recognize, nodded coolly at them. "This is my date, Ryan Meredith. Nice dress, Meg. It looks almost as good on you as it did on Diana."

Jo's eyebrows shot up. Hmm. This could get ugly.

"Thank you, Lana," Meg said with grave sweetness, just as Jo was set to suggest to Lana that mixing some olive oil into her food might prevent the formation of hairballs. "I didn't know it had belonged to her, but I shouldn't be surprised it did. It's an honor to wear it. She was a beautiful girl with excellent taste. I never really got to know her, but I greatly admired her from a distance."

Jo grinned. Leave it to Meg. She was something else.

The nasty little thing had taken leave, perhaps because of the presence of Lana, which brought out the solidarity between the sisters.

"She did have that quality about her," Lana said with an attempt to look all sad and everything. It might have been amusing if it hadn't been so...well, creepy. "Oh, look. There's Eddy Moffat with Sally Gardiner. Wow, I didn't know they were dating now. Guess he's finally over you, Meg."

"I hope so," Meg said softly, "for Sally's sake."

"I hope so too...for the same reason," Lana said. _Right,_ thought Jo, _and I bet you wish Diana was still alive too. _ "She is so not his type. Looks like she's gained a little weight. That dress is getting a bit snug on her. And you'd think her mother would tell her that teal is definitely not her color. That, and the fact that nobody is wearing it this year, but then again, you can hardly expect a mother to think of _that._"

"I bet to differ," Meg said stiffly. "And it's peacock, not teal. And I know for a fact that her mother strongly approved the dress."

"Maybe _you_ should consider wearing that color, Lana," Jo suggested wickedly. "Eddy seems to like it. And if nobody is wearing it this year, all the more reason to do so. You'd stand out instead of blending in the woodwork."

"Well, aren't you just a barrel of funsies tonight," Lana said looking at Jo as if she had toilet paper on her shoe, while Theo went off into a spasm of laughter. Jo fairly expected to see slitted pupils in her eyes. "To think for a moment there I thought you'd finally decided to grow up. It was pretty scary."

"It was, wasn't it," Jo agreed airily. "I scared myself, in fact. I _hate_ when that happens."

"Got your line memorized yet, Lana?" Michael said with a fiendish grin. Jo found herself warming up to him dramatically.

But she suddenly feared for him, and for Meg also, when she saw the look on Lana's face. _Whew, if looks could cut throats, there'd be blood everywhere,_ she thought.

"Don't be silly, Michael," Meg said with a gracious smile. "Lana plays Mayor Shinn's wife, she has lots of lines. Shall we go take our seats while we can still get through? I think the ballet is about to begin."

"Come on, Lana," Ryan spoke up, tossing away the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking. "I see somebody I know over there. Let's go talk to them."

"Pick a little, talk a little," Michael said as the couple took their leave. Lana gave no indication that she had heard him, although Jo knew she had.

After they took their seats, Jo glanced all around her, and saw Lana and Ryan standing in the doorway.

"Is it just me," she said, "or did she creep anybody else out big time? I mean, _big_ time."

"She reminds me of the girlfriends of some of the guys I used to go to school with, back in my pre-juvie days," Theo said. "Positively toxic."

"Funny, I bet I'd love her bitchy ass if she were a fictional character," Jo said. "She's a walking soap opera. What do you want to bet she killed her sister?"

She could hardly believe she had just let that slip. The others looked at her as though they couldn't believe she had either.

"Jo, be careful what you say," Meg said after a moment.

"Sorry," Jo said, and she actually meant it. "Guess I watch too many movies, or something. Overactive imagination in full gear. Message deleted."

"I don't like her either," Meg said, "but...well, that _was _crossing the line."

"Maybe she did, at that," Michael said, as Jo felt her face get hot, and hoped nobody noticed. "What Jo said, I mean. I do remember hearing that Diana's brake lines were broken, and the cops said something about foul play, but no one was ever arrested. My mother talked about it for weeks. She just loves a nice juicy scandal, even more than shoes and cigarettes."

"I remember the same thing," Jo said, "but I'd nearly forgotten about it...until now."

"Oh wow," Theo said snapping his fingers a little, "this is getting interesting. A real, genuine murder mystery right here in our very own sleepy little home town. The plot thickens, and no, I'm not lisping. So Jo, are you going to go all Nancy Drew and do some serious sleuthing?"

"I don't believe it for a minute," Meg said, "and we shouldn't be talking about it, at least not here. Somebody might hear us."

The curtain rose just then, and the subject was dropped.

Jo enjoyed the ballet for the most part, although at times she had a hard time following the story, and had to ask Meg what was going on. During intermission they talked more about who would play whom in the summer musical, then Theo and Michael pretended to be ballet critics, tossing out such comments as "I found the _pas de deux_ in the last scene decidedly lacking in repricicosity" and "The prima ballerina had a certain Ballanchinesque aloofness in her _tours jetés_...but boy did she had some hot gams," etc. A few well-dressed bystanders thought they were in earnest, and turned to look at them quizzically, which would have tickled Jo immensely under different circumstances. Yet there was a darkness overall, and their laughter was a little strained and shrill, their remarks too carefully witty, and no one seemed to be really listening to the other. Jo sincerely wished she had kept her mouth shut. What had started out as an innocent little lark among friends had a pall cast over it.

And when it was over, they did not go out for ice cream as originally planned. No one seemed in the mood.

Much later in the night, Jo found she could not sleep, so she decided to work on putting the rest of her novel up on the computer. Yet when she opened her sock drawer where she kept her notebook, she found it was not there.


	18. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Bunny

18. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Bunny

_I know I put it in here, _she though as she dug through the heaps of socks and underwear and other articles. _Then again_... She checked all the other drawers. Nothing there.

"Don't tell me I left it lying around somewhere," she spoke aloud. It was not on her night table, however, nor under the bed. Then on a though she went into the "schoolroom" and checked all the drawers on the computer desk. Like Macavity the Mystery Cat, it was Not There.

"Don't go into panic mode," she whispered. "Maybe I left it in my school locker. Or at Theo's? I did take it over there once. But only once. Surely if I'd left it there, he would have told me, and brought it back to me prontissimo. I distinctly remember putting it into my sock drawer yesterday. I'm absolutely certain I did not take it out. Somebody must have taken it. Who would do such a thing?"

It didn't take many nanoseconds of brain cudgeling to figure out who the culprit was.

Jo burst into the room that Meg and Amy shared, which was now occupied by Amy, Beth and Emily Prescott, all asleep, their little boombox still going softly on the bed table. Jo turned on the lights with a dramatic motion. The bed was a double, with a Hello Kitty coverlet which the girls wanted replaced with something more grown-up, but as yet had not the means. Amy lay on one side, facing the middle, with Emily on the other, her face turned toward Beth in the middle, without her wig on. Too much beside herself to be softened by such slumbering innocence, Jo twitched the cover off all three, then shook Amy's shoulder violently.

"Wake up, you maggot!" she said. Amy emitted a little squeak like a mouse encountering a tiger...not too far fetched considering that Jo was wearing her tiger-striped pajamas. Beth sat up, blinking, looked at Jo and then at Emily, who was a deep sleeper and had just turned over on her back with a light snore.

"What the..." Amy said looking fearfully at Jo, huddling up in her pink and white baby-doll nighty, perhaps hoping that if she looked enough like a precious little helpless bunny, she might escape with her skin intact.

"What did you do with my notebook?" Jo demanded, not being in a merciful mood, to say the least. "Don't even bother to play innocent with me. I know you've got it somewhere. What did you do with it?"

"Jo, what's the matter?" cried Beth. Emily finally woke up, almost falling out of bed in fright.

"I don't have your notebook," squeaked Amy. "Jo, let go my arm, you're hurting me! _Ow_!"

"Tell me where it is then," Jo said. "You're the only one in the house who would have taken it. What did you do with it?"

"I don't KNOOOOOOW where it is!" Amy bellowed wrenching her arm away from Jo. "MOM! HELP! Jo's trying to KILL me!"

"What in the world is-" Meg appeared in the doorway, Mrs. March and Hannah coming up behind.

"Jo!" Mrs. March said. "Stop that at once! What is going on here?"

"Amy took my notebook," Jo said releasing her hold on her sister but turning to face her mother. "I know she's got it. I want it back this minute."

"I did not!" Amy fairly screeched, rubbing her arm. "I didn't touch it! Jo HURT me!"

"Both of you calm down," Mrs. March said. "Jo, sit on the chair there, dear. Amy, sit up. Beth honey, are you ok?"

"Yes, Marmee," Beth whispered. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees. Emily sat close beside her, protectively.

"Now, Amy," said their mother, "did you take Jo's notebook?"

"No," Amy said, but her eyes did not meet her mother's. She had never been a good liar.

"Yes, you did," Jo said. "You're the only one who would have done it. She took it to get me back for not letting her go to the ballet with us, Mom. I know she did."

"I was burning trash in the back yard this morning," Hannah said coming over to stand by the foot of the bed. "Amy, you came to me with a bag you said was from your wastebasket. Did you-"

Amy looked guilty as Cain then. Jo actually felt herself turn pale.

"You didn't," she said barely above a whisper.

"Amy," Beth said incredulously.

"How could you, Amy?" Meg said. Amy burst into tears.

"It was Jo's fault!" she cried. "She was so mean. She embarrassed me in front of everybody in the mall. She _humidified_ me. I _told_ her I'd get her back. And I _did_!"

She sat with her arms folded in a rather pitiful gesture of defiance, yet her teary eyes pleaded with her mother for protection.

Beth slipped out of bed and went to stand with her arm around Jo, who was getting rather snuffly herself, and caressed her sister's shoulder with a cool little hand. Jo put her hand over Beth's.

"It was a terrible thing to do, Amy," Mrs. March said. "If you had a grievance with Jo, you should have taken it to her and settled it in a grown-up way. You had no right to go through her things."

"I couldn't help myself," sobbed Amy. "I was just so...so overcome with angriness and..."

Beth seemed a little shaky on her feet, so Jo stood up and let her have the chair.

"I'll never forgive you for this," Jo said to Amy with murderous softness. "You'll live to regret it, I can tell you that much."

"Jo," Beth said in protest, reaching to take Jo's hand. Jo almost relented then. No one could bring out her inner bunny like Beth. But just now Amy had brought out her inner tiger, and what bunny stood a chance?

"Jo," Meg said, "you do have the story on your LiveJournal, don't you?"

"Not the whole thing," Jo said between clenched teeth. "I thought I told you that already."

"You've got it in your head, though," Meg said gently. "You can write it again."

Amy looked outright terrified. Emily sat with the bedcovers clutched to her shoulders. Meg went to sit next to Amy on the edge of the bed.

"It's almost midnight," Mrs. March said. "So we had better settle this in the morning. Amy, you will have to take your new dress back to the story tomorrow. You can't go to the ballet after this. Jo..."

"All right, Mom," Amy said still looking frightened. "I don't want to go now anyway. I'm sorry, Jo. I'd take it back if I could. Forgive me?"

"When pigs fly," Jo said. Great. Now _she_ was the bad guy. Just wonderful.

"I'm sorry you had to witness all this, Emily," Mrs. March said. "I hope it doesn't discourage you from coming over."

"Oh shoot, I'm used to it," Emily said with a little flip of her plump hand. "I fight with Mickey _constantly_. You should see us sometime."

"Yes, I almost forgot you had a brother," Mrs. March said with a little smile. "Let's all try to get some sleep now. Jo honey, come along with me. Meg..."

Woodenly, Jo followed her mother out of the room, but turned her head to give Amy a look that said, _I'll get you, my pretty, and your nice little dog too,_ more clearly than words.

ooooo

_Let not the sun go down upon your anger_, Jo kept pondering her mother's words as she lay on her back in bed, staring up at the phosphorescent stars she and Meg had stuck up on the ceiling some time ago. _Yeah, right. Abso-fricken'-lutely._

_Your temper will be your downfall someday, Jo, if you don't learn to control it, _her mom had said. I nearly learned that the hard way, myself. _When Patty and I were young girls,_ _I nearly killed her once, when we had a huge blow-up over something I don't even remember what it was now, and she deliberately ruined my beautiful party dress that I had bought with my own money. Our mother made her pay for it with her own money, and blah blah blah blah..._Jo had stopped listening about that point. What was a lousy party dress anyway? She had worked on that story for two years. And all Amy was getting was not being allowed to go to the ballet. Big whoop. She probably didn't want to go that badly anyway, seeing as how Theo was not going to be taking her...

_Theo_...

"Jo?" Meg said next morning as she awoke and saw her sister still lying flat in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jo glanced at her as Meg propped her head on her elbow. Gad. She was still beautiful, even just waking up with her hair every which way and not a speck of makeup. There was no justice. "Are you ok?"

"Sure," Jo said in a tone that plainly said: _Don't screw with me now_. _If you know what's good for you_.

Meg recognized that look all right. She sat up, stretched, running a hand through her rumpled hair, then looked at Jo again.

"Jo, I'm sorry if I was harder on you last night than I needed to be," she said. Jo looked at her then.

"What?" she said. "What are you talking about?"

"When you said...what you did about Lana," Meg said almost timidly. Jo blinked.

"Lana who?" she said.

"You know Lana who," Meg said looking straight at her.

"Oh, her," Jo shrugged. "She's the furthest thing from my mind just now."

"Jo," Meg said. "You _can _write the story again, you know. You know what I heard once? That Robert Louis Stevenson's wife burned his manuscript of _Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde_ because she thought it was vulgar. Yet he did write it over again."

"Where'd you hear that one?" Jo said sitting up in bed. Not that it really mattered where Meg had heard it. It was just something to say.

"Um...I think it was on _The Waltons_," Meg said with a tiny attempt at a giggle. "When John-boy's manuscript got burned up in a house fire."

"Oh," Jo said. "Well, la de fricken' da. A most unimpeachable source."

"I bet you'd make it even better," Meg said with her gentle smile.

"I'll stick Lana in it somewhere," Jo said, more to try to get off the subject than anything else.

"Now you're talking," Meg said smiling bigger.

"I'm sorry I ruined everybody's evening," Jo said. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She had not removed her makeup the previous evening and her eyes were darkly smudged, her hair sticking up every which way. _And just last night I was looking pretty smokin'_, she recalled. _Now I look like the house after it burned down_. _ Good night, John-boy_...

"You didn't," Meg said, but Jo knew better.

"I always mess up everything," she mumbled. And hoped dearly that Meg wasn't going to say, _Tomorrow is another day_, or some lame quote from_ Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul_ or whatever. I'll puke if she does, Jo thought.

"You know what you said once about Eddy using Sally," Meg said leaning her head down on her knees. "I'm doing the same thing. With Michael. I'm using him."

"What do you mean?" Michael? Who was Michael?

"I'm leading him on," Meg sighed. "I don't feel about him like he feels about me. I like him, just not that way. But what am I supposed to do? He's the first nice boy who's ever asked me out. It's either sit at home or else go out with jerks."

"Who says you have to like him 'that way' to go out with him?" Jo said. "Besides, maybe you'll come to like him that way. Eventually."

"I doubt it. The chemistry just isn't _there_."

_So she still likes Eddy_, thought Jo. _Great. Well now. So why don't I care?_

_"_So you're gonna be a collector of broken hearts," Jo said. "That's something _I_ don't have to worry about being, at least."

"Jo, I'm _serious_," Meg said. "That is so not what I want to be. I admit I'm vain, I like to look pretty, dress up, be admired, go out and have fun and all that. But I never want to _hurt_ anybody."

Hannah pecked on the door just then. "Who wants blueberry waffles?" she said. "With ice cream? And bacon."

"Your favorite," Meg said with a little smile. Jo shrugged.

"Well, crap," she said. "Let's go."

Amy avoided her eyes all through breakfast. Beth had on her wig, which Emily and Amy had braided in front and twined several ribbons of different colors, then curled up the bangs. It looked a bit weird, especially since Beth kept looking anxiously at Jo. She looked really peaked, Jo couldn't help but notice. Was she getting any better? It was hard to tell. Meg talked about the ballet, and then about her costumes for the musical, in an obvious attempt to keep the subject away from Jo's notebook. Emily told a funny story about herself and Mickey, at which everyone laughed except Jo and Amy. Jo said little, but cast dark looks at Amy from time to time, whenever she happened to catch her eye.

It sucked to hate your own sister. It sucked even more to know you'd never stop hating her. It soured the air, and hung a black curtain over the sun. It made your favorite waffles taste like sawdust. It put ugly little squiggly things in your coffee.

It was worse to know that hating your own sister would distress the sister you loved, the one who might die soon, and there was nothing you could do about it. The bunny was in the tiger's stomach for all time.

ooooo

Meg had a rehearsal to go to after breakfast. Amy went to Emily's house, in an obvious wish to avoid the eyes of the tiger. Beth asked Jo to read to her, which she did until Beth fell asleep. Jo sat looking at her for some time, her mind blank. She thought of getting up to start writing her book again. She'd have to do it on the computer, for she had no other notebook and didn't feel like going out to buy a new one. But after she sat down at Dave, she found a p.m. from Theo.

Theo: _Hi Jo, how's Trix? Don't tell me, you haven't seen her in a while._

Jo: _My poisonous kid sister burned up my book last night. I tried to kill her._

Theo: _Amy?_

Jo: _No, Beth. Of course Amy, you dork!_

Theo: _Oh damn. That really blows._

Jo: _You ain't kidding._

Theo: _Don't you have it on computer._

Jo: _No, stupid me. I should have put it all on. Only little miss sneaky would have figured a way to get into it, I bet. She's got "hacker" written all over her in capital letters._

Theo: _Write it again. It's in your head, right?_

Jo: _I don't know. I can't think straight any more. I feel like my whole life is in ruins._

Theo: _Of course it isn't. It's just a setback. C'mon. The Jo I know won't let a setback ruin her life_.

Jo: _I don't even know the Jo you know any more._

Theo: _Well, I do. And I think you do too._

Jo: _I think that Jo died last night. Burned up along with her manuscript_.

Theo: _Now you're just being dramatic. I know she's still there somewhere._

Jo: _How about I come over and use your punching bag. I could pretend it's a certain somebody._

Theo: _Make tracks, dudette._

Jo: _You've never called me dudette before._

Theo: _Like it?_

Jo: _Yeah._

After fifteen minutes in Theo's gym, Jo found herself feeling better. They went out to the back yard to chill out and drink some lemonade that Mrs. Onderkirk had made.

"Your hair's starting to grow back," Theo noted. "You going to let it grow?"

"I dunno," Jo said. "I'm getting used to it short. What do you think?"

"I kinda miss it long," he admitted. She looked sharply at him, and thought his cheeks looked redder than usual. Hm. Probably her imagination. Then again...

"Do you?" she asked. He nodded. "Well. Maybe I'll let it grow then. Beth says I should."

Holy crap. She was actually going to do something...because of a guy?

Dang, but he was hot. Those eyes. And now they were looking at her...well, like she was one of the girls. Short hair or no.

Then a moment later, he sprang to his feet. "Let's go for a row," he said. "That'll buck us both up."

"I'm game," Jo said without asking him why he needed bucking up. "Let me go home and change first. I'm sweating like a Russian race horse."

Theo's eyebrows rose. Yes, a few weeks ago she wouldn't have let a little sweat delay her.

But he said only, "Ok then."

As soon as Jo had finished changing into jean capris and a fresh t-shirt and straw hat, she peered into the mirror wondering if she should put on a bit of makeup. Nah, she's just mess it up, she thought as she ran a comb through her hair. She looked in on Beth, who was still asleep on the sofa, and took a throw from the chair and spread it over her. Then just as she had told Hannah where she was going and was about to set out the door, who should come in but little Miss Amy.

Jo was about to make some bright remark about the Prescotts getting tired of her, but thought better of it and simply said nothing, brushing rudely past her. She sprinted out toward the Laurence house, then on a thought she glanced over her shoulder and saw Amy on the porch, watching her. Yep, the silent treatment was the wisest course. It would mess with Amy's mind. She totally wasn't used to it. It would teach her a thing or two.

Jo wished she felt better, but she wasn't about to turn back now. She'd just have to hope for the best.

Right.

ooooo

"Hannah, where is Jo going?" Amy asked as the servant came into the front room to check on Beth.

"She said something about going boating with Theo," Hannah said. "What's with you? I thought you were at the Prescotts'?"

"Oh, they're going to see Emily's grandparents," Amy said, "and I didn't want to go."

"Did they now? Well, you can come help me make dinner. Got some potatoes to peel."

"But it's _Saturday, _Hannah. Besides, it's not even my turn. It's Beth's."

"Now you know your mother doesn't want her using a knife. If she were to cut herself... But never mind. I'll do it, since you've obviously got better things to... Amy?"

Amy had run out the door, just in time to see Jo and Theo driving away with Jeeves/Douglas and a canoe on top of the car. She broke into a run, waving her arms wildly over her head.

ooooo

"Now this is it," Jo said as the two of them pulled along on the river, which was behaving nicely, neither too rough or too tame. "This is the effing life. I could make a living out of this."

"A professional rower?" Theo said with his dark eyes twinkling. "Sure, why not?"

"Well, it might take some of the fun out of it," Jo said. "But dang, it's so nice out here. The sun shining down through the leaves and all, and the sound of the water rushing over the rocks and all. Birds singing, and all that happy hoss crap. This is _it_. I'm feeling sort of pulled together now. I was in pieces, kinda like a jigsaw puzzle, and now it's like the pieces are being put back into place and all. There's really something to be said for communing with good ol' Mother Nature and everything. It blows all the crud out of your mind, cleans out your carburetor and all so you can run smooth again. Everybody should try it sometime. We oughta make a commercial about it."

Theo grinned at her. There was genuine admiration in that look. It made her feel shy.

It was a feeling she was getting better acquainted with day by day.

"That's my Jo," he said. "I knew she was in there somewhere. Welcome back."

"It's nice that you can put up with me even at my worst," she said in a low voice. "That's what being a friend is all about. Crap, stop me before I break into a chorus of 'Thank You for Being a Friend' or something shlocky like that."

"Anything but that," he said with a mock shudder. Then both burst out laughing. Until Jo happened to glance upward...at the bridge, which they were approaching.

"Oh, shit!" she muttered. "Will you look at that?"

"What is it?" Theo said, looking up also. And saw Amy, perched on the rail of the bridge, looking down at them.

"Can you believe it?" Jo fumed. "She followed us out here!"

"She shouldn't sit up there," Theo said. "She's dangerously close to those rocks. If she fell off, she'd break her head open."

"How did she even know we were..." Then the reality of what he had said hit her. "Amy March! Get down from there right now!" she hollered. She even started to stand up in the canoe, and Theo grabbed her arm before she could do anything so stupid.

"Come on, Jo," he said, "keep calm. We'll pull over to the bank and get out. Then maybe she'll come down."

"The little idiot," Jo said with her heart in her throat.

"Amy," Theo called to her, "hold on, baby doll. We're coming to get you."

_He thinks she's frozen in fear,_ thought Jo. _What if that's just what she wants him to think, so he'll go up and rescue her?_

_Christopher Columbus. She IS frozen up there. I forgot she was afraid of heights_. _But why did she climb up there in the first place?_

It was an old stone bridge, with a wooden rail built on it, and sometimes people came and fished from it. There was talk of taking down the rail, since someone had gotten drunk and fallen off it once, but as yet nothing had been done about it.

What had compelled Amy to climb up on that rail, was a mystery to Jo. She wouldn't even climb a fence at home.

Was this some kind of sit-down strike? Amy was going to stay up there until Jo relented and forgave her?

Now Jo could see she was clinging to the rail for dear life.

"Hold on, Amy!" Theo called up to her again. He rowed the boat under the bridge, until they were out of Amy's sight unless she were to look over her shoulder, looking for a place to pull into where the canoe wouldn't be dashed to pieces on the rocks. Jo looked anxiously up at Amy, who was still stuck on the bridge rail, hoping and praying that someone would come along and help her down before it was too late.

"Oh damn," Jo said under her breath as she saw some boys on bicycles riding toward the bridge. They looked to be about Amy's age or thereabouts. They would stop and tease her, no doubt. And then what? "Hurry, Theo. Please hurry and ditch this damn boat."

"Here we are," Theo said as he rowed to a sandy bank. The canoe stuck and Jo scrambled out of it and up the bank. It was steep and rocky but she climbed without a thought, and saw the boys pause and dismount. Would they frighten her into jumping, or push her? Was it some of those little hooligans who had caused her to get kicked out of school?

"Go get her," Theo said in a low voice. "I'll distract the boys."

Jo nodded, then ran toward the bridge, then heard a strange noise behind her, like nothing she had ever heard. It was like a cross between a peacock and a train whistle, and something of a Tarzan yell too, very spooky indeed. She saw the boys pause, glance behind them, then go to the rail on the other side of the bridge. Amy stayed where she was. The noise sounded once more. Amy looked fearfully behind her, but did not come down from the bridge. Jo dashed toward her and Amy looked at her begging with her eyes to come save her. Tears streaked her cheeks and she was sniffling but making no other sound.

"Come on down from there, you nut," Jo said as she trotted up and seized Amy by her waist. "Here, put your hands on my shoulders. Ok, one at a time. Come on now, if I were going to throw you in, I could have done so a minute ago. What in the sam hill were you thinking?"

Amy was trembling all over as Jo plucked her off the rail. The boys had taken their bicycles and fled.

"What was that _noise_?" Amy said rubbing at her nose with the back of her wrist.

"Didn't I ever tell you about the troll that lives under this bridge?" Jo said with a wink, then Amy giggled and hugged her tightly.


	19. Of Heroes and Villains

19. Of Heroes and Villains

_Triumph in River City Tonight!_

_by Jodie March_

_Whatayatalk, whatayatalk, whatayatalk, wheredayagetit? The Emerson High Chorale really outdid itself last night in its premier of Meredith Wilson's The Music Man! With a spunky cast led by Michael Mudge as the conniving "Professor Harold Hill" and Meghan March as the lovely librarian Marian Paroo, they turned out a performance worthy of the White Way itself, proving once and for all that they do, indeed, know the territory. The sets were simple yet artistically rendered by members of the Drama and Art classes, with assistance from the Chorale as well, and the costumes, skillfully designed by Mrs. Charlene Gardiner, brought to life a nostalgic atmosphere that could be truly deemed "quintessentially American."_

("Quintessentially" was Jo's new favorite word. It had such a ring to it, she said_._)

_Running the risk of blasphemy, I personally preferred Michael Mudge's Professor Hill to Robert Preston's, considered the definitive by most, it would seem. However, I would have known Preston's Hill for a con artist from the get-go, but Michael's had a more boyish and engaging persona and he might have hornswoggled me, I'm sure. Especially with that "Trouble" number. _

("Definitive" was another of her new favorite words,even though it was a little on the starchy side, she thought. "Hornswoggled" was better, even though Amy said it sounded like a dirty word.)

_And what can I say about Meghan March's Marian? I will probably be accused of shameless bias by some for praising my own sister to the proverbial skies, but the trouble is, I just cannot praise her performance enough. Some young singer-actresses would have played Miss Paroo as a cold fish or a viagra (_Damn, I meant virago, Jo thought as she read her review to herself for the first time. So that's what everyone was snickering about. I bet our esteemed editor let that stand on purpose, the stinker. Wait till I get my hooks on him...) _Meg, however, infused a warmth and grace and humor into the character that made her transformation entirely believable, rather like watching the last vestiges of winter blossom into spring. _("Vestiges"-there was another.)_ And she looked so breathtakingly lovely in her costumes, she nearly stole the show even from the irrepressible Mudgins, however dapper he looked in his uber authentic togs..._

(More praise for various supporting members of the cast, particularly Don Shlabodkin's pudgy but energetic Marcellus Washburn, plus some minor criticism of the sets in the library scene, which were a bit too cluttery, and in her not so humble opinion Zaneeta's voice was too squeaky. Ye gods!)

_And what can I say of Lana Babcock's Eulalie Shinn? I must admit she took me by complete surprise. Her sheer venom, her jealousy, her determination to take down the "Professor" and her unabashed cattiness re Miss Marian almost made my blood temperature drop several degrees. I predict we will be hearing of La Babcock in years to come..._

"Now that was pretty cool, Jo," Theo said as he recovered himself from the "viagra" misprint with admirable swiftness, laying the school paper down on his lap. They were in his back yard once more, drinking cold cider this time and nibbling on cookies Jo had brought from home. "Wow, the drama I miss being homeschooled and all. Did you really think she was so good? Or was that a diversion?"

"She was that good," Jo admitted as she poured herself a second glass of cider. "It kinda pissed me off, actually. I was wanting her to screw up, all the while knowing she probably wouldn't. I really was impressed with her performance. 'Baaalllzac!' The way she said that and all. Speaking of which, I got curious and checked out a book by Balzac the other day, _Eugenie Grandet_. Shoot, I've seen kid books that were raunchier. People couldn't have been _that_ prudish, even in 1912."

"Maybe he wrote some stronger stuff. We might have some in this library, for all I know. I'm curious myself, come to think of it."

"This one was a little depressing," Jo admitted. "Poor Eugenie, wanting to be loved and finding only greedy fortune hunters. Made me glad I'm not rich, after all."

"So you don't want to be rich at all?" Theo lifted his eyebrows.

"Well, not an _heiress_, like Eugenie," Jo said. "I wouldn't mind making my own fortune my own way, though."

"You wouldn't marry money then?"

"No frikkin' way. I heartily despise gold diggers. And you may take that to the bank."

She had to wonder where this was going. Then she met Theo's eyes once more, and glanced away. Hmmmm...

"Well...there _are_ three more performances to go," Theo said a moment later, with twinkling eyes. "Anything could happen. She may screw up yet."

"Yeah, but you know what? I don't want her to. You know what else is weird about that? I still think she did it."

"Did what?"

"You know what."

"Oh, that. I'd almost forgotten about it."

"Yeah, right."

"So what are you going to do about it? Drop an anonymous hint to the cops? or the FBI?"

"No," Jo said clasping her hands behind her head as she lay back on the chaise longue and staring at her bare feet, thoughtfully propping her left heel on her right big toe. "I've got absolutely nothing on her. Nothing but a hunch. Some detective, huh."

"Yeah, well. It's not really our problem is it? What about your book, by the way? Have you started writing it over again?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, and I think it's even better now. I stuck Lana in it, you see. She's Lady Elianna's illegitimate half-sister Virillien, that Elianna didn't know she had. She's a sort of mad scientist. And she's also madly in love with Lord Emirion. I was going to make her a witch, but that's _so_ cliché. But there can't be very many lady mad scientists in gothic literature. She performs these experiments on subjects her evil henchmen abduct and all."

"So what's she going to do, clone him?"

"No, silly. This is back in the olden days, remember? She's going to perform her experiments on him, and she's going to make Elianna watch. At first she was planning to kill her in a particularly gruesome way, but I decided it would be even more fiendish to make her watch her rival doing her dirty work on him...and I just got an idea. About Lana, I mean." She snapped her fingers.

"You're starting to give me the willies, Jo. What's your idea? You going to abduct her and perform experiments on her?"

"No, an idea for finding out if she did it or not. And you can help me with it."

"Things that make you go hmmm..."

"We'll do a Hamlet."

"A Hamlet?"

"You _have_ seen it, haven't you?"

"Yeah, some time ago. My mom had a thing for Mel Gibson. If you can imagine that." He chuckled ruefully.

"So does mine," Jo laughed. "Hannah likes Antonio Banderas, imagine that!"

"Who do_ you _like, Jo?" Theo asked her with mock seriousness.

"Christian Bale, if you really must know. But never mind that. Remember the part where Hamlet puts on a play to see if his wicked stepfather really did snuff dear old dad?"

"Um...kind of. But only because the playlet had a guy in drag playing the woman. It weirded me out big time, even after my dad explained that guys played women's parts back in Shakespeare's day. Are you suggesting we put on a play where Lana kills her sister or something? Another Youtube maybe? How are you going to get her to watch it?"

"Well, she did watch the one we made of 'The Fall of the House of Usher.' And also our fashion show vid. You know, the one where we all made those god-awful clothes out of odds and ends of junk from our attic, just like those models in that video with the dresses that look like they covered themselves with glue and rolled around in a haystack, and those fugly shoes that looked like their feet were in sandbags or something. She commented on that one. Said we had way too much free time on our hands. But she does subscribe to my channel. So she'd see it."

"But you wouldn't get to see her reaction."

"True. Well, yanno I saw her a couple of times at the Starbuck's at the mall. She works at one of the boutiques there and I think she was at Starbuck's on break. So what we could do is, we could go there at the same time she's there, and sit right behind her and discuss my novel. Talk about Virillien plotting to off her sister and all that. Because Elianna's so good and so privileged and everybody just _adores_ her, and poor li'l Virillien is such a social outcast and all. 'If she but blench, I know my course.'"

"'Blench'?"

"You know, turn pale. If she looks at all alarmed or disturbed, we'll know she did it, in other words."

"Oh, ok. And what if she did? What will you do then? Telling the authorities she 'blenched' while you were discussing your novel isn't really much to go on, is it? Even if the security camera gets it all."

"No, it isn't. But at least I'll _know_. I just hate the not knowing. So how about it? We'll have to go on a Saturday, or else wait till school's out...a whole week. I guess that would be the best course, since on a Saturday it's dicey as to whether or not we can actually catch her at the right time. She's not easy to stalk."

Theo laughed. "I take it you've tried?"

"Yeah, so I could see where she does lunch at school. But her being a junior and all, and me being only a freshman, well, I guess you can see the difficulty. I hate to wait that long, but if we gotta, we gotta."

She looked thoughtfully at a butterfly that landed briefly on her toe, then fluttered off toward a flowerbed.

"So what are your other plans for the summer, Jo?" Theo asked after a while.

"Plans? I never make plans in the summer. I just take it as it comes. I used to go to summer camp, but I guess I'm too old for that stuff now. I'd like to get a job, seeing as how Aunt Martha is going on vacation, but since I won't be sixteen until October, I don't know what I could do. What about you?"

"Damn, I don't know. Maybe I should get a job, myself. See what it's like to have to work for your living. See how the other half lives, and all that."

"What are the chances of you getting your horse back?"

"So far, so good, but that won't be till November. Seems like forever."

"This year has been amazing so far," Jo said, "to quote Sally Gardiner. Never quite had one like this before."

"Yeah," Theo said, "isn't it something? We met less than half a year ago. And yet my life will never be the same again. Sounds kinda like a song, doesn't it. But it's true. I'm not the same guy I was last year, since you fell in my lap at that awful party. I don't even know that guy, and I don't like him, either. He was lazy, he was pigheaded, he was arrogant, selfish, mean to people who were trying to help him, he was a smartass, he was a prima donna, he was whiny and spoiled, he did stupid things all the time-"

"Come on," she said playfully flapping at him with the fly swatter she held. "He couldn't have been _that_ bad."

"Oh, he was. I can't think of one single thing he had going for him." Theo shook his dark head, his brow puckering over the memory of his former self. "I don't see how anybody could stand him. And there's no telling where he would have ended up, if...if not for you, Jo. And your sisters, and your mom and Hannah..." He turned his head from her and she could see he was blinking hard. Jo looked away, quite thunderstruck.

"I'd no idea I was that big of an influence," she said softly. "I always thought I was the wild one other kids' mothers warned them about. I know of at least three that did just that. You must have brought out something good in me too."

"I don't see how I could have," he said huskily. "If I ever meet my former self now, I think I'll beat him to a pulp."

She laughed a little. "I think it started with me wanting you to get your horse back," she said. "So I resolved to myself not to lead you into temptation. I don't think I totally succeeded in that, but maybe I did partially. Because I really wanted you to get him back, and still do. But you did the rest. You wanted him back too."

"I did, but there was more to it than just that," he said. "It was _you_, Jo. It was your whole family really, but it started with you. I wanted you all to think well of me. There was something about all of you...something good and clean and beautiful. I didn't want to spoil that. But for wanting my horse, I might have spoiled it some, though, or tried to. I might have used you, or something. Know what I mean? But instead, I just kind of adopted you. Or the other way around, maybe. You were the family I should have had. And you just kinda chipped away all the crap and let me step through it... Wow, I'm gonna be singing 'Amazing Grace' in a minute, if you don't watch out." He laughed shakily.

"You'd probably jazz it all up," Jo laughed too. "Which would be fine with me. So. It seems the horse is the real hero of the day."

Their eyes met then, over the space between their chaise longues, for a long moment. What might have happened then, she was never sure, because a noise from his shirt pocket issued shrilly forth, making them both jump. He extracted his cell phone with a little sigh and flipped it open, rising and walking off slowly to stand some distance from Jo, who could only sit there watching him.

Then finally he turned and walked back to her, inserting the phone back into his pocket.

"That was my friend Fred Vaughn from Bar Harbor, that I told you about," he said smiling. "He's coming down for the weekend next week. We can have that celebration I told you about. Say, that's when Meg's birthday is too, isn't it? We can have a real bash."

Jo didn't recall him ever mentioning any Fred Vaughn or any celebration either, but she nodded, a bit dazed.

"So," he said a long moment later, "when are the tryouts for the summer musical?"

"First week in June. I'd like to be in it myself, but you know how that goes." She didn't quite meet his eyes this time. "Maybe I could be a stagehand."

"I thought Meg was going to coach you in learning a song for the audition?"

"That's what she said, but I don't see it happening. I can't picture myself going up on the stage and droning through 'Let Me Entertain You' or some such. That's one of the few songs I know that's easy enough for me."

He laughed. "I should think that one would be right up your alley, Jo. As entertaining as you are."

"Well, if I were to take on that one, I'd be entertaining in a way I _don't_ want to be," she said laughing also.

"Hey, I've got a better idea," he said. "Let's do a duet for our audition. Maybe something like 'Friendship.' You know-'Friendship, friendship, just a perfect blendship'? 'If you're ever in a jam, here I am'? You're familiar with that one, aren't you?"

"Yeah, kinda...but it's not really your kind of song, is it? I mean, it doesn't exactly do justice to your voice. It's not much in keeping with _Les Mis_, and all that, either."

"Oh, my voice isn't that great either. I've had no training whatsoever, remember? I probably won't get a big part. Let's do it, Jo!"

"Have you got the sheet music?"

"No, but I can play it by ear, and I can find the words online for you."

"Well...if you really think it would do."

"I think it would be perfect...almost."

"Almost?"

"No, not almost. Perfect."

She long remembered the look he gave her then.

Yes, she was most definitely going to let her hair grow out now. Screw comfort. Comfort was totally overrated.


	20. The Fine Crew of Saucy Wenches

20. The Fine Crew of Saucy Wenches

"Oh my," Meg said as she picked up an envelope Hannah handed to her and opened it. "The Moffats have actually invited us to their end-of-the-school-year party. An RSVP, no less."

"Can you believe the unmitigated nerve of them?" Jo said as she took the invitation from her sister. "Well, I'll RSVP _them_, all right. I'll send them back an SIUYA."

"An S...Jo, you wouldn't."

"Just watch me." Then Jo spied another envelope, addressed to "The Sisters March" and tore open that one. "Heh heh," she said with twinkling eyes. "Now this is more like it. A cookout on the green, courtesy of the Laurences."

The end of the school year coincided with Meg's seventeenth birthday, and so they had a double celebration. Jeeves/Douglas, no less, was in charge of cooking the burgers. Theo's friends the Vaughns had come down from Bar Harbor to visit: the twins Frederick and Franklin-yes, those really were their names-who were about sixteen, good looking, with light blond hair and very preppy clothes, Frank with a brace on his left leg. Then there was their twelve-year-old sister Gracie with her red curly hair and freckles, and their cousin Kate, who was about twenty and had come from across the pond to visit with her cousins and then go up to Canada to join some friends. She was rather languid and serious in a turquoise halter top and white slacks, her long auburn hair in a low pony tail. Jo had a bit of a prejudice against the English based on a good many snide remarks some of them had made about Americans online, and this one appeared to be in their league. Had she not been Theo's guest, Jo might have thought of a prank or two to play upon her, but she reluctantly dismissed the idea, at the same time hoping Theo might suggest it.

John Brooke came along also, but minus his fiancée, and Theo more than hinted to Jo that the two of them seemed on the verge of calling it quits.

"I think she wants him to come work for her dad, and Brooke doesn't want to," Theo told her in confidence. "Not that I can blame him. Her dad sounds like a royal old buzzard to me."

"I've seen her with him at church a time or two," Jo said. "He can do a lot better, if you ask me."

"I totally agree," Theo said with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

John was dressed rather plainly in tan slacks and an ivory-colored polo shirt, but he did have fine brown eyes and a sweet smile. And he was well built, not too surprisingly since he worked out pretty regularly with Theo. He was shy but seemed at ease with the party, at least until Meg showed up bringing Michael with her.

Sally and Eddy came along too, rather to Jo's dismay, yet she could not help but notice that Sally was not her usual bubbly self and she and Eddy barely looked at each other. Looks like John and Lois aren't the only ones about to call it quits, thought Jo.

Beth and Amy came also, along with Emily Prescott, and Gracie was introduced to them, having been assured that Beth's illness was not catching and that Beth was highly unlikely to "die on them" at the cookout.

A volleyball net had been put up in back of the yard, and Jo, Theo, Meg, Michael, John, Kate, Eddy, Sally, and Fred played, while the little girls sat on the shaded patio. Beth wore a wide straw hat over her wig. It had a couple of bright-colored silk poppies on it, and Amy had protested that it looked stupid and that Beth should just keep in the shade, but their mom insisted on her wearing it.

"Don't you think Theo looks _totally_ hot in that white shirt?" Amy said to Gracie and Emily mostly as they turned their attention to the game.

"Fred's cute too," Emily remarked.

"Theo's way cuter," Gracie said said with a dismissive flip of her hand. "John's not bad either, don't you think? In a nerdy kind of way."

"He's not nerdy exactly," Emily said. "Just, well, old."

"Well, yeah," Gracie admitted. "That's what I meant."

"I like him a lot," Beth said. "He's my piano teacher."

"Really?" Gracie said. "Are you crushing on him?"

"Nooo," Beth said blushing. "Why, he's old enough to be my father. Well, not my father, I mean-like, my big brother or something. He treats me like a real person, and not just some stupid kid. What happened to Frank's leg?"

The girls looked over to where Frank sat on a lawn chair under an oak tree watching the game. He did not appear to be enjoying it much.

"He was playing polo and his horse stepped in a hole and threw him," Gracie said. "I saw it happen. It scared the you know what out of me. I thought he was killed."

"Oh," Beth said, "poor him. He looks kind of lonely."

Emily hummed in agreement. "He's cute. He looks like Fred, but better, I think. Fred won't stay still long enough to see what he looks like."

"Eddy's hot too," Gracie said. "But why does he look so mad?"

"Because Meg brought another guy with her," Amy said.

"But he's got his own date," Gracie said.

"He's just trying to make Meg jealous," Amy said. "Yanno what, John likes Meg too. Eddy stares at her legs a lot. But John looks at her face."

"Meg's drop-dead gorgeous," Gracie said. "If I was a guy, I'd stare at her face too."

"Don't you think Kate is pretty?" Beth asked. "She looks so cool and stylish."

"She's ok, but not near as pretty as Meg," Gracie said. "Too skinny."

"Meg is a _babe_," Emily agreed with a sigh. "I'm dying of jealousy."

"Poor Sally," Beth said. "I can tell she likes Eddy a lot. I hope he doesn't get between her and Meg. I'd hate to see their friendship go up in smoke over some guy."

"I think Fred likes Jo," Gracie said. "He's bumped into her twice. That's a sure sign."

"Theo likes her too," Emily said. "I wonder if they'll fight a _duel _over her, or something. Do you think Jo is pretty?"

"Yeah," Gracie said. "Well, not pretty exactly...but, something."

"I think she's good looking when she dresses up," Emily said. "When she's all sloppy you don't notice her so much. Except when she talks. Then you _have_ to notice her."

"Which one do you think Frank likes?" Amy asked.

"I don't know," Gracie said. "He don't seem to look at any of them much. Girls used to be all over him. Before he got hurt and all. It was kind of gross."

"We should ask him over here," Beth said.

"Why don't you?" Gracie said.

"She's too shy," Emily said. "Why don't _you_ ask him, he's your brother."

"Ok," Gracie said. "Oops, never mind. He's getting up and coming this way. Looks like he heard you, Beth."

"He _didn't_," Beth quavered, blushing once more as Frank came hobbling toward the girls.

"He couldn't of," Emily said, "unless he hears like Superman or something. It's too noisy over there."

"Hi guys," Frank said with a rather tired smile. "Mind if I sit here with you?"

"Not a bit," Amy said with surprising cordiality. "Make yourself right at home."

Beth smiled shyly, although for a moment she seemed about to spring up and run off like a frightened doe. Frank eased himself down on the ground beside her, setting his soda cup down.

"So when do you think the grub will be ready?" he asked, just to make conversation.

"Soon, I hope," Emily said. "My stomach is growling."

"We could ask Jeeves," Gracie giggled. "That's what Theo calls him, although his name is really Douglas. He says 'Douglas' sounds too much like a guy who wears boxers under his kilt."

"Yeah, I know," Frank chuckled. The other girls just looked mystified. They had _never_ seen Jeeves in a kilt, as Amy pointed out. Frank looked down at Beth, who was sitting closest to him."Are you feeling all right?" he asked her.

She nodded, looking down, hoping her hat didn't look stupid after all.

"I'm ok," she said. "It's just kind of hot out here."

Actually it was a beautiful spring day, neither too warm or too cool, but Frank just nodded.

Gracie jumped to her feet. "I want to play now," she said. "Come on, Amy, let's. They've gotta let us sometime, instead of just sitting on our bums watching."

"Sure," Amy said. "Emily, you want to?"

"I don't like to play volleyball," Emily said. "You guys go ahead, I'll stay here and watch."

Beth looked at her gratefully as Amy and Gracie ran out toward the net, then allowed herself to glance up at Frank.

"How about you?" she said. "Are you doing ok?"

"I'm all right," he said with a sigh. "I'm not crazy about volleyball either. It just bums me out, to have to sit on the sidelines all the time while everybody else has all the fun. And I don't see any end in sight. I'm ruined for life."

She looked at him then, and he was rather startled, not by the thinness and paleness of her face, to which Meg had applied a touch of blusher so she wouldn't look quite so "peaky", but rather by her eyes, so large and blue and luminous as they were. He could see a gentle soul gazing up through those windows, of the sort he did not see every day...could not remember ever seeing, as far as that went. A soul that was accepting, admiring, concerned, longing, desiring to create and revel, yet not demanding of recognition itself.

"I know what you mean," she said softly. "It was like that for me even before I got sick. Most of the time I don't mind it so much, but every once in a while, I do."

"Theo says you're a very talented pianist," he said. "He says you can write music too."

"I do a little," she said, "but...I'm not that good. I can't picture myself on the grand concert stage or anything like that. I just love music though, and I'm happy just to play it and sometimes write it, that's all."

"Theo played me the song you wrote your mum for Christmas," he said. "It was beautiful, I thought."

"Thank you," she said blushing furiously and ducking her head once more. She had never talked to a boy other than Theo for so long at a time. "But I didn't write it all myself. Jo wrote the words. My sisters and me...well, we used to have this little club, where we had our own newspaper. We'd write little stories and poems and articles for it. Jo made a website for it. We didn't have a computer of our own then, but she'd do it at the library, and print it out for us. We haven't done it since last summer though. I wrote a little story once about a squash pie, but Amy said it sounded more like a recipe." She giggled.

"I'd like to see it," Frank said smiling. "Is it still up?"

"I think so. It's kind of dumb really. But Jo's stuff was funny. What do _you_ do? Do you play music, or..."

He shook his head. "I don't have any talents to speak of. I was more into sports and riding and stuff. But I don't suppose I'll ever be able to participate in that any more. Fred will be having all the fun now, while I get to sit and watch."

She winced at the bitterness in his voice.

"Maybe you _will_ get to do it again," she said timidly. "There are _some_ things you could do, aren't there? Like swimming maybe? I saw on TV once where a guy without any legs was swimming. He was really good at it too."

"I do still swim a little," he said. "But I won't be winning any competitions or anything. Definitely not Olympic material, that's for da-sure."

"Do you _have_ to be in the Olympics?" she said softly. "Couldn't you just swim because...because it's fun, and good exercise, and you enjoy it? Does it _have_ to be about competition?"

She could hardly believe she had just said that. Oh, now he would be mad, and they'd been having such a nice conversation. Why did she have to open her mouth and spoil everything?

"I'm sorry," she said a moment later. "I don't know why I said that."

"That's ok," he said. But he didn't sound ok.

"It's just that, well, you've still got both legs and all," she stammered, "and, and you're not sick or anything. You've got your life ahead of you, and you can still do things. I just don't see why it has to be...all competitive and stuff. I just..."

"It's ok, Beth," he said looking at her a long moment. "You're right actually. Here I am healthy as a horse and all, sitting on my bum feeling sorry for myself because I can't be in the Olympics. While you're here all interested in life, even though you've got cancer and couldn't compete even if you wanted to, and you take it all as it comes, and you're cool with it, and have a positive attitude and all. You must think I'm a real loser. Maybe I am."

"I _don't _think you're a loser," Beth insisted. "Or at least, you don't have to be."

"Right," he said, but he didn't sound like he quite believed her. Then he looked down at her once more. She looked up at him, without glancing away as though she'd said the wrong thing any more. Those eyes again. "Erm...do you have a Facebook account, Beth?"

"Well...yes. I'm not online that much, though."

"Could I add you to my friends list?" he asked. "I'd like to chat with you sometime."

"Sure," she said, her cheeks pinking once more. "I'd like that."

She smiled right at him, without so much timidity now.

"You sure your mum wouldn't mind?" he asked. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen. You?"

"Sixteen. Three months ago."

"I don't think she'd mind."

"I think the burgers are done," Emily spoke up, pointing toward the grill where Douglas was taking the patties up with a spatula and placing them on a large plate.

"I'm so sorry, Emily!" Beth exclaimed turning to lay a thin hand on her friend's chubby arm. "I didn't mean to leave you out of the conversation. How rude of me!"

"That's ok," Emily said with her usual placidity. "I'm starving, aren't you?"

The younger girls all gathered at the picnic table with Frank, while the others lounged on the grass with a cloth spread out before them. Frank asked Beth and Amy more about their "club."

"We had pirate names," Beth said with a giggle. "Meg's was 'Evil Mermaid Pegs'. Jo was Cap'n Blood 'n Guts. I was Neck Snapper Nancy, and Amy was Fancy Pants Penny. We-"

"You're kidding, right?" Frank threw back his head and bellowed. "Neck Snapper Nancy? The one who wrote recipes for squash pie?"

"Yes," Beth laughed too. "I made a lousy pirate."

"I should hope so," Frank said when he could get his breath. "I'm totally dying to see that paper now. What was it called?"

"_The Fine Crew of Saucy Wenches_," Beth said. "We made our own costumes. Our mom didn't much like us playing pirates, though, and I couldn't exactly blame her, so we were going to change it, but we never quite got around to it."

The noise from the picnic table soon caught the attention of the others.

"Wow," said Fred, who sat between Theo and Kate, "I haven't heard Frank laugh like that in a donkey's age. Not since before the accident."

"I think Beth was telling him about our newspaper," Jo said with her mouth half full. She had caught the words "Saucy Wenches," just barely. "Isn't that something? I wouldn't have thought she'd have the nerve to even say hello to him, let alone tell him about our pirate stuff."

Then she had to explain about the newspaper, since Theo had not seen fit to fill his guests in on the subject. She said they had gotten their names from a "pirate name generator" and she would see if she could find the link.

"I never figured you for a pirate wench," Fred said, "although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, if you wield a cutlass like you play volleyball. Know any lusty pirate ballads to sing for us?"

"Yeah," Jo said, "but if my mom heard about it, she'd have me keelhauled and hung out to dry before you could say 'Avast behind!'"

"Ha!" Fred guffawed, and the others laughed. "What sort of pirate is afraid of their mum?"

"Besides, if you ever heard my singing, you'd probably walk the plank on your own," Jo said. "I _can_ fence pretty good, though. Theo taught me. Do you fence?"

"Sure do," Fred said. "Didn't bring my foils and stuff, though."

"You can borrow mine," Theo said. "I have an extra set, but Jo uses that."

"You fence?" Kate spoke up, looking at Jo.

"She does," Meg said, "and very well too, considering she's had no formal training and has only been at it for half a year."

She smiled with pride. Kate raised her eyebrows behind her glasses.

"Do you?" Jo asked her.

"Yes, certainly," Kate said. "I've been fencing since I was a child."

"Well then," Jo said with sudden new respect, "I bet you could kick my bony ass into next Tuesday."

Kate adjusted her glasses and stared at Jo.

"Jo," Meg reproved her rather mildly, then laughed a little in spite of herself.

"We could have a match after the eats," Theo said. "Girl on girl. That would be interesting. So, Fred. How is Rambo doing?"

"You should come up and see for yourself," Fred said. "I think he misses the way you kiss his muzzle when you think nobody's looking."

He winked at Jo, who had given him a startled stare. Theo did not look at all perturbed, however. Obviously he was used to this sort of teasing from Fred.

"Thanks, maybe I will," Theo said. "I was thinking of coming down next week, in fact."

"Bring your friends, if you like," Fred said, looking at Jo once more. "We've got plenty of nails on the wall to hang them on. And we could go sailing on my dad's new yacht. She's a real beaut. Ever been to Bar Harbor, Jo?"

"Can't say as I have. I'd like to see it. Wish I could visit every state there is. So Theo's horse is in Bar Harbor? That's hard to imagine."

"Our estate lies about a mile or so outside of the city limits," Fred said. "Tell Theo to bring you out some time. You'd enjoy it, if you like whales and lobsters and lots and lots of boats."

"Sure, I love tourist traps," Jo said. Fred laughed a little. "Haven't been to very many, just the ones close by. Lexington and Concord, Martha's Vineyard...and of course, Boston. I have relatives there. I love it, but if I had my pick, I think I'd take New York City to live in."

"When were you there?"

"Once when I was a little kid. My mom and dad took us to a Broadway show. _The Seussical._ It was pretty good, but I liked the streets mostly. It was only for the weekend, but I got a bellyful. Well, Meg loved the show. Mom said it was too noisy and crowded for her liking. But I loved everything about it. One of these fine days I'm going back."

Finally it was time for the fencing bout with Kate. Jo got trounced, as she knew she would, but not so easily, and at the end of it, Kate removed her gloves and reached down to help Jo up.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I was going to ask you the same," Jo said cheekily, but smiling, "as soon as Tuesday got here so I could go retrieve my ass. I was afraid I'd hurt you and your cousins would be ticked off, so I had to let you win."

Snickers from the sidelines. Kate actually managed a smile.

"You did very well," she said. "With more training, you could become a professional in time."

"Why, thanks," Jo said. "You're not half bad yourself. I should make you an honorary Saucy Wench. Let's see, what should your name be? How about...Cap'n Sadie Skullcrack?"

Kate's eyebrows jumped a full inch above the lenses of her glasses.

"How did you come up with that?" she asked.

"I have many skills," Jo said in imitation of Xena the Warrior Princess. Actually it was on the list of pirate names she had made over a year ago. She could still remember some of them. "Like it, luv?"

Another strange thing happened. Kate actually laughed. "It will do very nicely, I'm sure," she said. "A pirate's life for me, what?"

"I want a pirate name too," Frank spoke up. "I'll be...Peg Leg Porky."

Everyone laughed. Beth looked up at him in wonder. Jo grinned.

"Arrr, 'tis right fittin', matey," she said. "What of you, me hearty?" she said to Fred.

"I'll be Nick the Gouger," he said with a wink, likely expecting her to draw back in consternation. However, "consternation" was not in her vocabulary, as she would have told him, and she didn't bat an eye.

"And I be Thumpin' Tommy Terwilliger," Theo said. "Wanna come untangle me riggin', me buxom beauty?"

"Silence, before I be swabbin' yer poopdeck," Jo said thumping him atop his head with a spatula. "And you, me lass?" she said approaching Sally, who started.

"Oh...I don't know," Sally said, looking at Eddy as if for a suggestion. "I'm not very good at coming up with names and stuff."

"How about 'Lobster Lena LaRue'?" Jo said. She had heard Sally and Meg discussing Sally's date with Eddy at the Red Lobster one night, where Eddy had ordered the biggest lobster any of them had ever seen. It was near big enough to ride, Sally said. And come to think of it, she was wearing a bright red t-shirt now. Eddy slapped himself on the thigh.

Sally looked entirely flustered then. "I guess it's all right," she stammered, her cheeks reddening. "If I can remember it."

"And you?" Jo said to Eddy, who shrugged. "Ulrich the Unwashed?" General laughter all around.

"How about 'Ned the Ladykiller'?" Eddy said without looking at either Sally or Meg.

"So be it," Jo said. She found herself standing before John Brooke. "How about you, me bucko?"

"Well...I could be Long John Silver maybe," he suggested.

"That's taken, I fear," Jo said. "How about..." She closed her eyes trying to think for a moment. "Cruikshank the Cruel?"

With his sweet smile John said it was great. Michael Mudge was dubbed "Scurvy Sam Swizzler" and Gracie, after some shuffling about, settled on "Madcap Molly Mulroney." And Emily kept her own name of "Dirty Dora DuBonnet".

"I have an idea," Gracie, aka Madcap Molly, spoke up a while later, as Jo finished jotting down all the names in her notebook, which she always carried with her now. "We used to play this game at summer camp. Somebody starts a story, and then breaks off at a good part, and then the next person has to continue it, then do the same thing, and then the next person, and so on. Ever hear of it?"

"Sure," Theo said. "We play it online sometimes. Who wants to begin? Jo here is a writer, maybe she should start?"

"Gracie should start, since it was her idea," Fred said tweaking one of his sister's red curls. She slapped at his hand, but missed.

"I should, seeing as how I'm the host," Theo admitted. "But Jo could do it so much better, I think," he said with a wink.

"I'll begin," Jo said in her be-careful-what-you-ask-for tone, which got everyone's attention."Cap'n Blood 'n Guts and his fine crew of saucy wenches were all singing a pirate ballad that was fit to scorch the barnacles off'n the _Sea Wolf_, yet sadly their hearts were not truly in it. For, alas, they'd been at sea nearly three weeks without capturing a single ship, poor things, and 'twas almost Talk Like a Pirate Day, at that.

"'Twon't seem like Talk Like a Pirate Day without ary booty,' Cap'n Blood 'n Guts grumbled, at the helm where he gloomily steered.

"'Aye, 'tis a miserable thing not to have a plenty of booty in one's hold,' spoke Evil Mermaid Pegs, her bein' as fair a creature as one could hope to look upon, yet most handy with her harpoon, so that few cared to trifle with her.

"'I don't think 'tis fair for other pirate wenches to have plenty of booty, while others have none atall,' complained Fancy Pants Penny, diggin' for her handkerchief before she remembered she had none, so she ended up usin' the sail. Again.

"'Why, we've plenty of booty,' says Neck Snapper Nancy, who was cook upon the galleon, that was known as _The Prune-colored Peridot_, by the way. 'We-

"The _what_?" Fred and Frank both asked simultaneously.

"Don't even ask," Theo told them with a wink.

"Don't be interuptin' till it's yer turn, ye swabs," Jo snarled at them. "Where was I? Oh yes. 'Remember the ship we captured three weeks ago?' Neck Snapper Nancy pointed out.

"'Arrr,' growled Cap'n Blood 'n Guts, 'well I remember. Six barrels full of lousy yeller squashes. Some booty, I should say!'

"'But I made such lovely pies with 'em,' sweet Nance pointed out. 'And besides...we have each other.'"

"The entire crew was cheered by these hopeful words, but not for long, for suddenly Dirty Dora, up in the crow's nest, espied somethin' upon the horizon. Which turned out to be..."

Jo broke off here, glancing sidelong at Theo, who cleared his throat.

"A schooner that had been captured by the notorious pirate twins, Nick the Gouger and Peg Leg Porky," he said, "along with their bosun, Thumpin' Tommy Terwilliger. And along with these three pirates was the strangest looking sailor any of the _Peridot_'s crew had ever laid eyes on. He was very skinny with a huge chin, squinty little eyes and bulging forearms, and on closer inspection, the Cap'n could see he was tied to the mast, and was vainly trying to burn away his bonds with fire from his pipe.

"'Poor fellow,' Neck Snapper Nancy, who was notoriously tenderhearted, was heard to say. 'Perhaps we should go and rescue him.'

"'If you sez so, me lass,' the Cap'n said. He had a soft spot for Nancy, if the truth be known. 'And,' he added, 'we might capture us a buttload of booty while we're at it.'

"'I hope there's one as looks like Will Turner,' Penny was heard to murmur. 'I could totally fancy HIS booty.'"

Amy gave him a kick from behind, which made him chuckle a bit. Her crush on Orlando Bloom was well documented in her family, along with her opinion that Theo looked a good bit like him.

"So the crew of the _Peridot_ captured the ship," Theo continued, "the pirate brothers being such pushovers for bonny wenches, as it were, and Thumpin' Tommy's weakness for squash pie, which Nancy had brought with her. She immediately rushes to the assistance of the sailor who was bound to the mast, but found herself unable to free him. She offers him one of her pies, thinking it was the least she could do, and he says, 'Beggin' yer pardon, little goil, but ye wouldn't 'appen to 'ave ary cans of spinnadge wid yer?' And she says, 'Oh aye-aye sir, that we do! I feeds it to my bunny!' And with that she returns to the _Peridot_'s galley and ransacks it for spinach, finding but one can left. And the sailor opens it with his pipe, she having forgotten the can opener, and downs it with one gulp, to her amazement. She was about to apologize for not bringing more, when he suddenly burst the bonds holding him, his biceps bulging to three times their size, while hornpipe music mysteriously plays in the background. And then..."

Theo glanced toward the twins, who had been snickering over the tale, but they suddenly stopped as their friend looked expectantly at them. Then Frank cleared his throat.

"Well, the sailor guy starts dancing and singing, 'I'm Popeye the sailor man, TOOT, I'm Popeye the sailor man, TOOT TOOT, I'm strong to the finish, cuz I eats me spi-' But before he could finish his song, Thumpin' Teddy..."

"Tommy," Jo corrected him softly.

"Tommy thwaps him upside the head with his cutlass, saying, 'Shut the bleep up, you annoyin' little thwap-worthy galoot, before I feeds your scrawny arse to the sharks, such as 'tis.' A fight soon breaks out, while Pegs and Penny distract the twins with their feminine wiles so Cap'n Blood 'n Guts and Dirty Dora can go down to the hold to plunder the booty, when suddenly a whaling schooner appears upon the horizon. Cap'n Blood 'n Guts runs back up to the deck, raises his spyglass to get a closer look, and sees the name _Pequod_ on her hull. 'Shiver me timbers!' he says. And Popeye says, 'Blow me down!' at which Nick the Gouger huffs and puffs and blows with all his might at the little sailor dude, not being the sharpest blade in the armory, as it were, and he almost succeeds in knocking Popeye over, his breath stinking so bad of the grog he'd been knocking back for most of the day..."

"Fortunately, the breath got into the sails also," Fred said, as his brother broke off and glanced his way, "and blew the ship toward the _Pequod_, which as it turned out, had been captured already by none other than Cap'n Sadie Skullcrack and Cruikshank the Cruel, and their crew, including the infamous Terror of the High Seas, otherwise known as Madcap Molly Mulroney. There was a sailor there that told them 'Call me Ishmael,' and when asked why, he said, ''Cos it's me name, dumbass.' There was another dude with pictures of sexy Polynesian babes tattooed all over every inch of skin that could be seen...and since he was wearing a thong, that was a lot of island cheesecake. Even so, Cap'n Blood 'n Guts couldn't help but notice that this feller seemed awful fond of Ishmael, if you know what I mean. There was another guy by the name of Starbuck, drinking coffee from a big cup with his name on it, who told them the name of the captain, which was Ahab...no relation to the A-rab, he said. The Cap'n wasn't in a good mood, he said, but then he never was. He was a couple 'a balls shy of a brass monkey, if truth be known, but that never slowed him down any. He was out to kill some albino whale that had bit his leg off, and wasn't about to turn back till the deed was done and the whale stuffed and mounted over his mantlepiece-never mind that the critter was a tad big for it. And then who should show up but Cap'n Ahab himself, harpoon in hand, and it was obvious that he'd heard every word..."

Fred broke off here, looking expectantly to the others for the next candidate. Then to everyone's utter surprise, Sally spoke up.

"'What's this!'" Cap'n Ahab growled. 'More wenches? First I get captured by all these that have got no more fashion sense than the man in the moon, 'specially that Lobster Lena LaRue critter over yonder with her hideous red off-the-shoulder jumpsuit, and now more on top of all that? What's this world comin' to, I ask ye?'

"'I'm sorry, sir,' says Starbuck. 'Let me make ye some more coffee, sir.'

"'Coffee, my ruddy bum!' says Ahab. 'You served me decaf last time, you blithering idjit!'

"'Just then Peg Leg Pete...?"

"Porky," Frank corrected her.

"Oh yes. Just then Peg Leg Porky spoke up, and he said, 'Why Cap'n Ahab, you've got the most amazing peg leg I ever saw! It looks just like a whale tusk! This one I've got is made out of aluminum. How lame is that?' And the Cap'n said..."

She glanced at Eddy, her invention evidently having run out already.

"Unfortunately no one heard what the Cap'n said," Michael said, and Eddy looked both relieved and a bit miffed. "Because there was a sudden commotion behind, and the water began to rise like a huge tidal wave.

"'Tis him!' cried Ishmael. ''Tis Moby Dick!'

"'Watch yer mouth,' Popeye says. 'There be ladies on board!'

"'Nay, that's the white whale,' says Starbucks. 'His name's Moby Dick. Don't ask me why.' And the wave grew higher and higher, and suddenly the white whale rose from the water. He was the biggest whale they'd ever seen, and they all knew they were done for. Cap'n Ahab bravely raised his harpoon, and then suddenly his cell phone went off in his pocket. 'Damn and blast!' he growled, reaching in his pocket for it. 'Why can't that dratted old woman ever just leave me be!' And just as he was flipping open the phone, Moby Dick opened his mighty jaws, and swallowed the boat in one gulp!' And..."

Michael looked around at his audience, who were staring at him with open mouths.

"So is that the end of the tale?" Theo asked.

"Well...unless somebody else wants to finish," Michael chuckled with a little shrug. "Anybody?"

"May I?" Jo spoke up, raising a hand hesitantly. "Even though I began it?"

"Be my guest," Theo said. She grinned impishly.

"So there they all were inside of the whale," Jo said. "'Dang, this sucks!' Cap'n Blood muttered, using every objectionable word as was in his vocabulary. 'You kin say that again!' spoke a voice behind him, and turning about he saw a little old man in a strange and ragged costume that looked oddly biblical, and a beard as long as he was. 'I bin in the belly of this varmit since I kin remember!' says he.

"'Don't tell me, let me guess,' says Cap'n Blood 'n Guts. 'Jonah?'

"'Aye, that I be,' says Jonah.

"'But I thought the whale spat you out,' the Cap'n says, 'many and many a year ago.'

"'That was a whole 'nuther whale,' Jonah says. 'I been prayin' my brains out, but this 'un don't listen like t'other un did, blast his ornery hide!'

"Then Evil Mermaid Pegs says, 'I'll poke a hole in his stomach with me harpoon and rip him from stern to scupper! Then we kin all escape!'

"'Nay,' the Cap'n says, 'you'll only cause a leak, and we'll all be drownded. Popeye, you got any of that there spinnadge left? Mebbe you could eat some of it and then pry his jaws wide apart, and we could get out.'

"'And Cap'n Ahab says, 'Starbuck, why don't you dump some 'a that there decaf into him, that should make him toss us all up.'

"Then Nick the Gouger says, 'Have that tattooed feller do a hula dance, that might do the trick. Or plant a big one on Ishmael here.'

"Then Fancy Pants Penny says, 'Oi, what a bunch of flamin' amateurs. _I_ know the way!' And she starts singin' a song by Brittney Spears at the top of her voice, gyratin' around to the music, and that did it for poor Moby. He retched, and retched again, and a foul-smelling bile arose in his stomach, and all at once he heaved up the whole crew, ship and all, onto dry land, which was conveniently situated nearby. 'We're saved!' they cried jubilantly, and at the same time, someone else cried out the same thing..."

Jo raised her eyebrows at the others.

And Kate spoke up: "And they saw that they were on an island, where a thin little chap in a red sweater, white pants and sailor cap stood on the beach where they had landed, with a man in skipper's attire, along with a tall and beautiful redhead in a sequined gown, a petite and pretty brunette in a red gingham dress, an older couple who looked very wealthy, the man holding a teddy bear, and a younger man who looked considerably smarter than the others. 'Oh blimey, I think I liked it better in the whale's tum!' cried Cap'n Sadie Skullcrack, and she ran screaming for the waves only to find that Moby Dick had turned and swum off far into the deep. And I suppose that's the end, unless anyone has any more."

"Well, I can't add any onto that," John Brooke said laughing. "So. What next?"

"Wait," Gracie said bouncing up and down a little, "it was my idea. I should get a turn."

"So spill it," Fred said.

"It's just a little bit," Gracie said. "Fortunately, Peg Leg Porky had managed to grab Moby's tusk while he was getting barfed up, so he was able to carve himself a much better peg leg than Cap'n Ahab's. But he broke it one day chasing after Ginger. And that's the end...I guess."

"Actually, Mary Ann was always more my type," Frank said impishly, looking aside at Beth.

"Yeah, ok, whatever," Gracie said. "The end."

"Also Moby didn't have a tusk," Fred said. "He was a sperm whale."

"Ok, Mister Know-it-all," Grace said rolling her eyes. "He got it off a whale that got beached on the island then. Happy now?"

Then they all turned at the sound of clapping, to see Mr. Laurence standing before the grill.

"Excellent, folks!" he called to them. "That's the most entertainment I've had in weeks."

Beth went to stand beside him, Jo following close behind.

"Did you really like the story, Mr. Laurence?" Beth asked him. He laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling.

"Of course I did," he said. "Those who delight in stories are forever young."

"Who said that?" Jo asked a little shyly.

"I did," he said with a wink.


	21. Pandora's Box

21. Pandora's Box

"You were right, Jo," Meg said next morning as they were getting ready for church. "About Eddy using Sally, I mean. She knows it now, and she's heartbroken. I could just shoot him. God forgive me for thinking that, but it's true."

Jo was a little shocked at Meg's confession, but relieved that she was finally over Eddy Moffat.

"So...there's a chance for Michael now?" she said as she sat and studied her comb as if it had suddenly become very interesting. The little girls were still at the Laurences', having had a sleepover with Gracie the night before. Their mother had had serious misgivings about Beth spending the night away from her, but Mr. Laurence had assured her that Beth would be in good hands, and so she had finally consented.

"Maybe," Meg admitted. "I really don't care if I ever see Eddy again. In fact, I hope I never do. Poor Sally, I just hope she gets over him soon. But I'm not counting on it."

"She's not mad at you, is she?" Jo asked.

"I think she is, just a little," Meg sighed. Her lips quivered a bit. "Really, she should have known that was what he was doing. Why else would he date her? I guess she was hoping he would come to like her eventually. I should have seen it, and warned her about it. Yes, you can say 'I told you so' if you like. I feel awful, like I helped ruin her life, and could have prevented it. I'm worried now about what she'll do."

"You didn't ruin her life," Jo said. "She'll get over him. It might take a while, but she will. Girls don't die for love anymore. That's just in old songs and tales and stuff. She'll find somebody else, and everything will be just ducky for her again."

She was not sure she truly believed that, herself.

"I hope so," Meg said. She sat on the edge of the bed in her slip, hairbrush in hand, staring morosely at the mirror, then at the window.

"I like Michael," Jo said. "I hope he'll get to stop pining away for you and have a chance at true happiness now. If he only had a different name."

"I don't know," Meg said. "I hate to keep leading him on. I just don't know what to do. I don't want to mess up his life along with Sally's. Sometimes I just wish there was no such thing as falling in love and we could just meet the ones we're going to marry when we're ready and not have to go through any heartbreak and all. Life would be so much less complicated."

"Well, as Hannah would say..." Jo glanced sidelong at her sister.

"It gets worse," Meg finished. "Great, just what I needed to hear."

"Well," Jo said, "the Vaughns have invited us and Theo up to Bar Harbor this summer. Think you'll go? It might do you some good to get away from here for a while. Give you a whole new lease on life and all that happy hoss crap."

Meg shrugged, then rose to go to the closet to choose an outfit. "Maybe I will. I'd love to get away, it's so dreary around here now. You like the Vaughns?"

"They're ok. Although Fred cheated at Farkle, I think."

"Yes, I saw that. It was good of you not to get riled at him."

"A year ago I would have clobbered him," Jo said as she put on her grey dress. "But I was remembering what Mom said to me just that morning. That she was proud of the way I had been controlling my temper and all. I didn't feel like I really deserved the praise after that business with Amy and my book... Frank seems to like Beth a lot," she noted.

"I saw that too. He'd better be good to her."

"That's what I was going to say. Theo says he's changed a lot since his accident. Said he and Frank and Fred used to get up to all kinds of devilment, when he was up there visiting them in the summertime. He said Frank was the worst one. He wouldn't have looked twice at Bethy then. Now he's _totally_ different."

"Funny that Beth should be the first of us to have a boyfriend," Meg said as she took out her turquoise dress to put on. "I always thought she'd be the last, if she got one at all."

Jo was silent for a moment, remembering how John Brooke had looked at Meg...while all along Kate was looking at him. She wondered if she should say anything about it.

She wouldn't have thought Kate would look twice at him. He was hardly in her league.

Being grown up was not all it was cracked up to be, she concluded, not exactly for the first time.

ooooo

_Hey Theo! Did you ever do anything so stupid you felt like socking yourself on the jaw?_

_Yeah, a time or two. How do you think I ended up here? Tho I guess it turned out to be a good thing I did, after all. So, wuzzup?_

_I just did something so f-ing stupid I felt like socking myself on the jaw. I didn't realize Lana Babcock had a youtube channel. Dang, WHY didn't I think of that sooner?_

_How did you find out?_

_I was sitting at Dave here minding my own business, and it just occurred to me out of the proverbial blue. Shit, of all the people who would have a youtube channel, it should be HER, KWIM? Well, I found it, and she's got like about 12 vids on it. One of them she's actually singing "Over the Rainbow". Can you imagine? She starts out saying, "This goes out to my sister who was senselessly taken from us in the prime of her life" or something like that. Then she just kind of whispers "This one's for you, Diana" into the mic and all. And she tries to look all sad and soulful and everything, and I almost had to grab the wastebasket and puke._

_Wow. Where do I find them? _

_Careful what you ask for, dude. There's one of her singing "Maybe This Time" from Cabaret, and one with "Send in the Clowns" and another with "Stranger in Paradise" and "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" and of course "On My Own" from Les Mis, and she's got on a different sparkly little dress in all of them. Jeez Louise, how many sparkly little dresses can one 17-year-old girl own? _

_Did you watch them all?_

_Not yet. I had to let my stomach settle after each one, watch something good to take the taste of them out of my mouth._

_Why are you watching them if they're so bad?_

_Looking for clues, I guess. _

_Find any?_

_Not yet. There's also some vids Diana is in. I haven't watched those yet. Do a search under lababcock. LOL, I'm not the only one who calls her that. She calls herself. Guess the first A stands for Alyssa, that's her middle name. Be sure to have some barf bags handy._

_Sure you're not just a little bit jealous Jo? LOL_

_I'm a whole lot jealous, but that's beside the point._

_Well. Want me to come over there or do you want to come over here?_

_I'll come over there. Somebody else might want Dave. Besides, your puter is faster._

By the time Jo managed to get to Theo's, about an hour later, he had watched all of Lana's videos. And did not appear any the worse for it, strange to say.

"What am I supposed to be looking for, Jo?" he asked as he fired up his computer. "All I saw was a girl in a sparkly dress singing. A little stuck on herself maybe, but that's not exactly a crime. She's got a damn good voice, although she kinda lacks something. Some kind of...star quality, or whatever. There's no heart or soul there."

"You ain't a kiddin'," she said. "Let me show you something..." She typed in a name in the browser and clicked on it. "There's a duet between Diana and Lana. You just won't believe what song they're singing."

"Is it the 'Friendship' song?" he asked with twinkling eyes.

"It's 'Wind Beneath My Wings,'" Jo said. "The song that was sung at Diana's funeral."

"Hmmm. Well, that's pretty weird, but... So you went?"

"No, I read about it in her obituary. Watch it, if you think you can stand to."

They watched the video for a minute. Theo slowly shook his head.

"So that's Diana," he said as he gazed at the dark-haired girl in the simple white dress that had only a tiny bit of sparkle on it, her only jewels a small pair of crystal earrings and a silver ring.

"Gorgeous, huh?" Jo said with a touch of envy. "I've seen her in person in a couple of musicals. She played Maria in _West Side Story_ and Philia in _A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_. Meg had to drag me kicking and screaming to see those with her, but I really enjoyed them once I was there... Now watch Lana's expression here. Fair warning, it's frickin' scary. Here, get in on full screen." She took the mouse from him and right-clicked to bring the video to its full resolution. "Otherwise you might miss it."

"I see what you mean," he said a moment later, with a little shiver at the malevolent hatred that flickered over Lana's visage, for only an instant, but once seen, could not be unseen. "Still, it's not exactly conclusive, is it?"

"It's conclusive to me," she said softly. "And now I wish I'd never watched it. I feel almost dirty. As if I'd had something to do with it. I wish I hadn't told you to watch it. I'm sorry I did. I've opened Pandora's box, and there's no closing it now."

"Guess we won't have to play Hamlet after all, what?" he said, looking as glum as she felt.

"Guess not," she said. "We'd better keep this to ourselves. Just our little secret, right?"

"Right," he said, sounding as though he had aged a full year in the course of a few hours.

ooooo

CAST LIST for _Les Miserables_

Jean Valjean...Adam Wexler

Bishop of Digne...William Anthony Horst

Javert...Ephraim Everard

Fantine...Lucy Maddox

Monsieur Thenardier...Stan Luckett

Madame Thenardier...Mary Luckett

Cosette...Meghan March

Eponine...Lana Babcock

Enjolras...Parker Stokes

Marius...John Brooke

Gavroche...Jeremy Wexler

Little Cosette...Stephanie Wexler

Little Eponine...Chloë Anderson

Convicts: Elliot Stokes, Brian McGowan, Keith Ripperton, Ray Maddox

Factory workers: Deborah Weinstein, Jodie March, Inez Rodrigues, Tiffany Anderson, Sally Gardiner, Karyn Finney, Nikki Landon

Revolutionaries...

The director was Marguerite Foster, head of the Arts Foundation. She was a rather big woman in her late fifties, with a mop of greying black curls, a booming voice and a hearty sense of humor. Jo liked her, although she confided to Theo that she looked like a man in drag but for the wild curls. Likely she didn't take any guff from any prima donnas of either sex.

"I'm glad Stephanie is playing little Cosette," Meg said as she and the others stood about the Arts Council practice room looking at the cast list. "I knew she would. She was Amaryllis in _The Music Man_, you know. She really can play the piano and she can sing and act. And she's a darling little girl, not a bit conceited or spoiled like you might expect. Isn't it neat that she's Valjean's daughter in real life too?"

"But she's a blonde and you're not," Amy said. She had hankered after the role herself, but she was too old for it, and she didn't have a very strong voice. And there was also the small fact that, as Jo had noted to herself, she couldn't act for sour apples. "You'll have to bleach your hair, Meg, or wear a wig."

"People's hair sometimes darkens as they get older," Meg said. "And Sally said she'd put some streaks in mine before the performance."

"Isn't it cool that we're ALL going to be in it?" Beth said. "Except Mom and Dad. And Hannah. I wish Dad could come in time to see it."

"Maybe he will," Jo said. "I hope, I hope. Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be in a musical. I'm still discombobulated. I doubt I'd have gotten in but for Meg."

"Crap," Theo said. "You did great on the Friendship song, Jo. It cracked everybody up. Especially that little dance number you did while I was singing."

"Yes," Meg said. "You made do with what you had, and did it well. We're all proud of you."

"Jeremy Wexler is a creep," Amy grumbled. "He's the one that put the glue in my hair last year. He'd just better not try it this year, if he knows what's good for him."

"But it washed out easily enough when Mom soaked it in warm water," Meg pointed out. "And boys will be boys, you know. I doubt he'd do it again."

"I'll thwap him a good one if he does," Jo said with a wink at Amy. "I'm guessing he'll steal the show. He's a real character. I'm not surprised he got the part of Gavroche."

"Who's Lucy Maddox?" Theo asked.

"She's director of the children's choir at our church," Meg said. "Ray is her husband. He's band director at the Middle School. Hasn't Mr. Brooke ever spoken of the Maddoxes to you?"

And she glanced about as if to see if John were in the room hearing her. Apparently he was not.

"He might have," Theo said, "and I just wasn't paying attention."

"Seems funny she's going to play a prostitute," Jo said sitting down on one of the risers. "Wonder what people at church are gonna think about that."

"To think the Lucketts are playing the Thenardiers," Beth said. "It's weird that Mrs. Luckett is playing such a mean lady. She's a real sweetie in real life, and she has the most adorable little boy just three years old. I baby-sitted him once. I wonder how she'll manage."

"I hope I get a decent costume to wear," Amy said. "I sure don't want to get on stage looking _totally_ stupid."

"They're going to try to work in a swordfight," Theo said brandishing an imaginary blade. "Ms. Foster said that when I mentioned that Jo and I could fence."

Jo also whipped out an invisible weapon, said "_Engarde_!" and she and Theo pantomimed a swordfight with exaggerated flourishes that greatly amused all the bystanders, who clapped and cheered them on.

And then Lana walked in. Jo actually felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She could almost swear she heard her sword fall to the floor with a clatter.

"Hi, guys, what's up?" Lana said.


	22. Spellbound

22. Spellbound

Lana was singing now, and Jo could hardly take her eyes away from her. Meg was somewhere with Sally, while Theo was off with the guys in another room rehearsing.

"So what do you think?" Nikki Landon asked in an undertone as she slid into the front-row seat beside Jo in the auditorium. Nikki was a drama major at Cambridge University, and she was the understudy for Eponine. She was about Jo's height, but with a slightly better figure. She wore jean capris and a red knit sleeveless topper that was probably much more expensive than it looked. Her silky dark brown hair was cut in a shoulder-length bob with bangs, and she had freckles across her finely cut, pointy nose that Jo did think were rather cute. Her greenish-hazel eyes were intelligent, expressive and very beautiful. She had a tomboyish persona that would have appealed greatly to Jo had it not been for her prejudice against Nikki's social standing. Usually girls from the upper classes were nice to Jo chiefly in hopes of getting to Theo through her. But Nikki seemed to have no interest in him. She'd mentioned that she had a boyfriend, although he was in med school and she didn't see so much of him now.

Jo had a hard time picturing her as a doctor's wife.

"I think you can do just as well as her," she said, "if not better. I just have to wonder why Ms. Foster gave her the part instead of you. I'm crossing my fingers that she'll piss Lana off so she'll walk out of the show and you'll play Eponine instead. Too bad we don't have access to the Phantom of the Opera's special throat spray."

Nikki snerked. Jo grinned. Lana's presence had weirded her out for the past three weeks she had been going to rehearsal. There was a nervous energy about the girl that set her teeth on edge, although Jo had confided in no one except Theo about it, and he admitted to the same feeling. It made him feel like walking on eggs around her, he said. Although it would have made one hell of a mess, he had to admit.

"Sally says you and your sisters do home theatricals," Nikki said after a moment. "I think that's the awesomest thing I ever heard of."

Jo started. And felt a little ashamed of herself. She would have supposed Nikki would consider home theatricals lame or childish. Hardly what the hip crowd would have gotten into. Then again, Nikki didn't seem much the hip-crowd type herself. She was too much her own person.

"Yeah, we used to, kinda," Jo stammered. "Not so much any more. Everybody's getting too old for it, I guess."

"I used to wish I had sisters," Nikki said stretching her long slim tanned legs out before her, seeming to contemplate her thong sandals. "I have a brother, but he's about seven years older than me. We're pretty close, and I get along pretty good with Nadine, that's his wife, and their little boy, but it's not the same. You and your sisters must have had some pretty good times."

"Yeah, we have," Jo said. "I can't complain, I guess. Can't imagine what I'd have done without 'em."

"Meg was great in _The Music Man_," Nikki said. "Your review cracked me up. You're a funny gal, Jo."

And she fell quiet again, watching Lana once more.

"Diana would be playing that part, if she were alive now," she said suddenly, sitting up straight in her seat, and Jo started.

"You knew Diana, didn't you?" Jo said. Actually Sally had mentioned to her that Nikki and Diana had been close friends.

"She was my best friend," Nikki said blinking back a tear or two, "even though she was a year older than me. I still can't believe she's gone sometimes."

"I'm sorry," Jo said. And was at a loss for what else to say. She longed to ask Nikki if she knew how Diana had gotten killed, although she was certain she knew already. Still, she could hardly help but wish there were someone else who knew as well. Sharing the secret with only Theo was getting to be a strain. Yet she felt delicate about asking, and cast about in her mind for a tactful way to ask. Tact had never exactly been one of her more finely honed skills. But she liked Nikki, who had been friendly to her from the get-go, never snooty or condescending, and she didn't even seem to mind being relegated to singing chorus parts. Meg liked her as well.

For a long moment Jo and Nikki just sat there watching Lana, Nikki's expression inscrutable, although she did not normally seem the inscrutable type. At one point Lana seemed to become aware that she was being watched, and she stumbled over the song, so that the pianist stopped playing.

"Sorry," Lana said with a dry little laugh. "I forgot the words for a sec. I thought I had it all memorized, crazy me."

Jo continued to stare at her in the hope of getting her more rattled, but Lana took up the song over again, without a hitch this time. The girl had poise, Jo had to admit. Not to mention chutzpah.

"I saw Diana in _West Side Story_," Jo said to Nikki after a long moment. "You were in it too, weren't you? Didn't you play...?"

"Anybodys," Nikki said. "Yeah, that was the high school musical. The year before I graduated. You went to see it? That was two years ago."

"Yeah, with Meg," Jo said. "It was way better than I expected."

"Oh, ok then," Nikki said grinning. "I didn't know you sang too."

"I don't, actually," Jo said with a little snort. "I wasn't going to try out, but...well, Meg and Theo just kinda roped me into it. I didn't have anything better to do, or so I thought, so I let 'em."

_So I could keep an eye on Lana, _she wanted to say. _I don't like the way she's been looking at Meg. Creepy._

"You're not so bad," Nikki said laughing a little. "I'm glad you're in it. You've got something about you that's, well, catching. A sense of fun and enthusiasm. It's inspiring."

Jo felt herself blushing. She'd had no idea that anyone saw her that way. She had been rather afraid that someone would pick up on her secret. Yet she did enjoy the rehearsals that she was in herself, when Lana wasn't around. There was a sense of camaraderie that was delightful at times. The boys had even gotten used to her being "one of them." They didn't even criticize her singing voice, although she had a feeling they must have joked about it behind her back.

"It's so weird and sad that she...died...that way," she said after a while. "Did they ever find out who did it?"

Nikki jerked her head around so abruptly, her hair brushed against Jo's face, and she looked so hard at Jo, the younger girl winced. _Now I've done it,_ she thought. _Should have kept my yap shut. When will I learn?_

"I...just heard that her brake lines had been cut," she explained.

"Jo," Nikki said, sitting up straight all of a sudden and glancing about as though trying to make sure no one was listening, "can you come over to my house?"

Jo looked behind her. "Now?"

"Yeah," Nikki said. "There's something I'd like to show you. And I couldn't do it here."

"Well," Jo hedged, feeling a flutter of apprehension, "I really should tell Meg, or...somebody."

"Can't you call her on your cell phone?" Nikki asked.

"I don't have one," Jo said.

"You can use mine," Nikki said, taking her phone from her handbag. Jo took it hesitantly. She was not even sure how to use a cell phone. Well, how hard could it be? She opened it and punched in the number, then informed Meg that she was going with Nikki for a bit.

There, that wasn't so hard.

A few minutes later she was climbing into Nikki's blue Corvette with her. Nikki drove rather fast, but managed to get to her home without running into anybody. It wasn't very far, at that.

Her home was a pretty white house in an understated Victorian style, with plenty of flowers and trees about, in an old and rather ritzy neighborhood-very _Desperate Housewives_, Jo thought. Indoors, Nikki got some Cokes out of the refrigerator and gave one to Jo, then took her out to the back porch. Her mother was nowhere in sight. She never was home much in the daytime, Nikki explained.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back."

She went back inside and returned with an envelope in her hand.

"What do you know about what happened to Diana?" she asked.

"Just what I heard on the news," Jo said taken aback, looking at the envelope. "That her brakes were cut and all. And that the garage had been locked before she left, no sign of a break-in, no footprints, no fingerprints other than hers. So it couldn't have been anyone from outside of their house...unless they came in, and there was no one there from outside the house there that night. So it was ruled an accident. Do you suppose it was..."

Jo raised her eyebrows at Nikki. She had been wondering if Nikki had the same suspicions she did.

"Lana?" Nikki said.

Jo nodded. "I don't know anything, of course. But I've got my suspicions, especially after watching some of her videos. The one with her and Diana both. Have you seen it?"

"Yes," Nikki said taking a rather loud sip of her Coke, yet seemingly unaware she was doing so, her eyes on Jo's face. "What did you think about it?"

"It creeped me out," Jo said, feeling a bit disloyal to Theo. seeing as how she had sworn him to secrecy. "The look on her face...Lana's, I mean. You don't suppose she...actually killed Diana, do you?"

"She did," Nikki said bluntly. "But she didn't cut Diana's brakes."

Jo felt her heart almost stop beating. "She got someone else to do it? Some guy maybe?"

She thought of Lana's many satellites. Any of them...could be a murderer?

Her heard was fairly spinning.

"No," Nikki said, and Jo drew in her breath sharply. "She didn't cut the brakes. Nobody did. Diana drove the car that morning, and Lana wasn't even home. She was out on a date that night, and she was with a couple of her friends during most of the day. The car was so demolished, it would have been a wonder if the brake lines didn't break. They were rubber. Nobody cut them. But it was no accident, Jo."

Jo nearly fell off her chair.

For a moment she thought maybe Nikki was making some bizarre joke. Yet her face was deadly serious.

"Then it was..."

"A suicide," Nikki said nodding. "Yes. But it _was _Lana's doing. No doubt about it."

"Holy shit," Jo said.

"Exactly," Nikki said.

ooooo

"Did you know Diana was engaged to be married?" Nikki asked her. The envelope lay still untouched on the little glass-topped table between their chairs.

"I think Meg may have mentioned it," Jo hedged. She was starting to feel a little chilly, although it was the middle of June. Nikki nodded.

"His name was Paul Stoltzer, and he was from Boston," she said. "He had a good deal of money...and he also had terminal cancer."

Jo drew in her breath. "I hadn't heard that part. I'd think Sally would have said something about it."

"She didn't know," Nikki said. "It was pretty much hushed up. Yes, Paul was dying, and he was wildly in love with Diana. His father was a friend of Diana's stepfather, that's how she and he knew each other. I guess I should tell you something about Diana, so you'll understand a little better. Yes, on the surface she was just what every girl wishes she could be, but if they knew the whole truth, they'd thank God on their knees that they weren't in her shoes. See, Diana's mother was the biggest bitch that ever walked the earth. And you can quote me on that...although somehow I hope you won't."

"Oh em gee," Jo said a little numbly. "Are you sure you want to be telling me all this?"

She couldn't imagine why she said a thing like that, when she was quite literally on the edge of her seat.

"Diana's dad left when she and Lana were little," Nikki said. She did not seem to have heard Jo's question. "Which is just as well, because Diana told me he raped her and Lana when she was six and Lana was four. Six and four. Can you imagine? Their mom caught him at it, and all she did was tell him to get out. No cops, no doctor, nothing. She made the girls take a bath, that was all. Then she made them swear never to say a word about it to anybody but her. She'd pulled a gun on him, and he never came back. Diana said she thought her mom killed him and hid the body, maybe buried it somewhere far away, or even under the house. It's all in this letter-she gave it to me the day before she died. Actually she stuck it in my purse when I wasn't looking, and I didn't notice it until the next day. I had a hard time believing it, myself. I would have thought she would have told me. She was kind of a mysterious person, I always thought there was something..._haunting_ her, you know? But I never would have guessed it was something so horrible. Her mom remarried, but her new husband wasn't much improvement. When he was drunk he'd try to get in bed with Diana, maybe Lana too for all I know. Then he got killed in a wreck, and her mom had a boyfriend or two after that, but she didn't get married again. She had some money from his insurance policy, and some that her father left her, but she always had this terrible fear of poverty. She was obsessed with money. Which brings us to Paul Stoltzer. Diana's mom guilted her into getting engaged to him so that he'd leave her all his money when he died. And Diana really loved her mom. Don't ask me why, because her mom never really loved her. She was jealous of her, I think, because Diana was so beautiful and sweet and had this way about her, this power, that drew people to her like bees to a rose. Charisma, I guess you'd call it. Well, her mom resented that, I picked up on that often. She was the Wicked Queen to Diana's Snow White..."

"So she was a grown-up Lana?" Jo found herself actually shivering.

"Darlin', she made Lana look like a frickin' amateur," Nikki said between clenched teeth. "Guess you could say Lana is Wicked Queen Junior, but she still doesn't even come close to their mom. Mrs. Babcock even strongly hinted to Diana that it was her fault that her dad did what he did, and her stepfather too. And yet, Diana truly loved her, and wanted to please her. So she got engaged to Paul, and eventually she found herself truly falling in love with him. He was nice looking without being super-model gorgeous, and he just had this simple goodness about him, this enjoyment of life, she said. She'd never known anybody like that before. For the first time in her life, she was happy, although of course there was a drop to her happiness, seeing how he was terminal and all. But she thought maybe their love might bring about a miracle or something, and he'd be healed and all. She totally held on to that hope."

Nikki paused here, and stood up abruptly and walked to the edge of the porch. Part of Jo wanted to get up and run off and not hear the rest of the story, and another part was glued to her seat. She ran a hand across her forehead, not at all surprised to find it sweaty.

"I saw a movie something like that once," she said almost timidly. Nikki turned slowly to look at her.

"Yeah, well, I think Lana saw it too," she said coming to take her seat and light a cigarette, "because she found out about the plan. Maybe she heard her mom talking about it or something, I don't know. And you guessed it, she went to Paul and told him everything. Gave him some little song and dance about how she couldn't bear the thought of him being 'scammed' like this, and that her own sister was pulling such a thing when everybody thought she was this Little Miss Perfect, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum. Well, you guessed it. He broke off the engagement. A week later he died. And two weeks later, Diana had her 'accident.' She did a Thelma and Louise over a deep embankment, about twenty miles or so out of town. That place they used to call 'Lookout Point'. She couldn't have driven all that way with cut brake lines. So, Lana did kill her, and she'll never be convicted, but she's just as guilty as if she had cut the brakes herself."

With trembling fingers she picked up the envelope and drew out two slips of stationary and unfolded it. It was ivory colored with a picture of a swan at the top. The writing was in purple ink.

"Did he leave her the money?" Jo asked. Then she thought that was a lousy thing to ask, but there it was.

"Some, though not all," Nikki said. "He left most to a hospital, the one where he had gone. It was in Boston, and it's supposed to be this really great cancer center and all..."

"The one Bethy went to," Jo said. Nikki raised her eyebrows. "She has leukemia, you know," Jo explained.

"I thought she was over it now?" Nikki said.

"No...not yet," Jo murmured. "Well. Now what? So Lana and her mom just...did this, and got away with it, and all? That sucks with a vengeance."

Nikki didn't even seem to notice how stupid that sounded. She just nodded morosely, and handed Jo the letter.

"You can take it home and read it if you want," she said. "And if you think you should show it to somebody, your mother or..."

Jo took it and stared at it for a moment without reading it. "You kept this?" she said. "Isn't that withholding evidence...or something?"

"Nobody was arrested," Nikki said. "So there was no crime, technically. I didn't show it to anybody because I didn't want people to think badly of Diana."

Jo handed the letter back. "I don't think I care to read it. I'm just feeling kind of...messed up. I mean, I'm glad you told me and all, I was having a problem with keeping it all to myself. But I wish I didn't know."

"I'm sorry, Jo," Nikki said, sounding on the verge of tears once more. "I know that feeling, trust me. I was tired of keeping it to myself too. I guess that's why I told you-I just somehow knew you'd understand. No, not from the beginning. It was only in the past couple of days that I started picking up on it. But I didn't want it to mess you up. I'm sorry it did. I wish I could take it back."

"So what do we do about it?" Jo asked. "Do we keep it under our hats, or..."

"I don't think we should tell about it," Nikki said. "I'd rather keep it quiet, for Diana's sake. Maybe people would think badly of Lana instead, but I'd rather not take that chance. Ok?"

"I'd rather not keep it from my mom and Meg...and maybe Theo too," Jo said. "I can trust them to keep shut about it. I won't tell anybody else."

"Ok then," Nikki said. "I like you, Jo. I used to be a lot like you. Kind of carefree and innocent, and funny and crazy and all that. Diana and I had some real good times, and got up to some wild and silly stuff together, like the night of her high school graduation when we all went for a ride in our underwear. There was me and her and two or three other girls at my house, right on this porch, and we had a bottle of whiskey that Amber Lewis brought, and then out of nowhere we just got this crazy idea to go out riding in our underwear. This cop pulled us over, because we forgot to turn our lights on, and when he saw us all in our underwear he just about lost it. Luckily he knew my dad, they were fishing buddies and all. Sometimes Lana would tag along, but she had this bad habit of talking about people and airing their dirty laundry and all. I admit I'd listen sometimes, but then Diana would steer the subject back to musicals, or something else we were all interested in, and then we'd have some fun. Still, Diana was a sad person. She was often depressed, and she talked about suicide more than once to me. It really scared me, and I'd beg her not to be so morbid. I guess that was my big mistake, but it was so damn scary, I didn't know what else to do. She tried drugs, you know, she wouldn't mind me telling you that. Not just funsies stuff like pot, but crack and meth and all. I remember it well. But it only killed her pain for a while, and before she met Paul the only thing that really brought her out of it was her acting and singing. Pretending to be somebody else. You've seen her at it. She was..."

"Spellbinding," Jo said. Where that word came from, she wasn't sure, but there it was, and it was exactly right.

"Absolutely," Nikki said. "She truly became the character she was playing. She would have gone far, I know. But she was cut off from it before she ever had the chance."

ooooo

Jo told Theo everything Nikki had told her, as she rode along with him to rehearsal next day. He listened in rapt silence, and whistled at the end of it all.

"Do you suppose it's true?" he said.

"I think it is," she said. "Yanno what, last night I dreamed I was walking along Lookout Point and I saw Diana's ghost. It used to be this big make-out spot where the high school kids went on the weekend, and then a couple of them saw Diana walking there one night, and now nobody hardly goes there any more. Or that's what Nikki told me. Funny, you'd think I would have heard that one before. Wendy Pinchbeck, that was my best friend before I met you, she used to love to tell ghost stories. She knew some doozies, too. Then again, she moved away before Diana died. Well, anyway I saw her, and she looked right at me without saying anything, and I felt so guilty, like I'd had a hand in what happened to her or something, then I looked down at my hands and they were all bloody. I hardly ever have nightmares, but that one really put a scare in me. I felt like I'd met the devil himself."

"You believe in the devil?" Theo said with uplifted eyebrows.

"I do now," Jo said.


	23. The Applecart and the Fairy Lady

23. The Applecart and the Fairy Lady

"What's the matter, Jo?" her mother asked her, about a week later, at the breakfast table. "You've been a bit quiet and distant lately. Is something bothering you, honey?"

"Nah," Jo said shrugging. The others had noticed too, she knew. Beth especially, although she had yet to ask. And Hannah, although she put it a lot less tactfully. _Somebody knock over your applecart this morning, princess?_ she'd asked when Jo kicked the leg of the table and swore the previous day. Gee, whatever made Hannah think such a thing? "I'm just in one of my moods, is all. It'll pass."

"You've been in it a good long time now," Mrs. March noted.

"It's just teen angst," Jo said.

"You mean, PMS," Amy said rolling her eyes.

"Maybe that too," Jo said. Maybe that _was _all it was. Sometimes these things really could be physical, she had come to find. Maybe it was one of the monsters from the box.

"Well, I hope it's over and done with soon," Mrs. March said, although she didn't sound convinced. "It's summertime, you should be out having fun."

"I've hit a snag with my book," Jo said with a sigh. "I don't think I'll finish it."

"I thought you _had_ finished it," Meg said.

"I finished the first draft. But I've futzed with it till there's hardly any futz left. It really stinks on ice. I'm working on a short story now. I saw where there's a prize on one of my favorite story sites for the best gothic tale, and I'm going to try for it. I guess it's affecting me inside."

She felt glad that excuse had suddenly come to her rescue. She was even able to smile a bit.

But at rehearsal, it was another matter.

"I mean, I'm not stupid," she said to Theo as they rode to the Arts Council building. "Not _that_ stupid, anyway. I know all kinds of terrible shit goes on in the world, and always has. I do watch _Law and Order _sometimes, even though my mom doesn't like me to. But when it's going on in your own back _yard_, so to speak, with people you _know_, well, it's a whole 'nuther ball of Turtle Wax."

"I know what you mean," Theo said. "It's easy to laugh at somebody else's crazy uncle when he puts the lampshade on his head at the dinner party. When it's _your_ crazy uncle, it kinda puts things into perspective."

"Hey, don't talk about Uncle Charles like that," she said making a little fist at him. "And it wasn't a lampshade, it was a butter boat."

Theo laughed.

"I've been sort of avoiding Nikki," she confessed as they entered the building. "It's bad of me, but..."

"I think you should," Theo said, to her surprise. "Something about her doesn't sit right with me. What's her interest in you? I mean, what's she, about twenty, twenty-one?"

"Nineteen," Jo said. "What, I can't have friends that are older than me? Kate and I have been Facebooking, I think I've told you. She's a _Lord of the Rings_ fan too, you know. And I notice you and Parker Stokes seem to be on excellent terms. Isn't he about twenty-three? And rumor has it he's gay, or bi, not that I ever listen to rumors or anything."

"Oh no, of course you don't," Theo said flushing a bit. "Yeah, me and Parker get along fine in rehearsal, but we don't hang out together outside of the show or anything. If you and Nikki were both adults, age wouldn't be any big deal. But when you're kids like us, it's different. I guess I'm going by my own experience. When older guys tried to get all pal-y with me, they were always up to no good. They wanted something out of me. A couple of 'em were, you know, into me. Others tried to use me to help them pull off some crap, and they figured they had a patsy. Which they did, come to think of it. That's how I got into some of that trouble last year. And-"

"You think Nikki is 'into me'?" Jo said incredulously. Such a thing had never occurred to her.

"Well, anything's possible," Theo said. "But no, I don't think she is. I'm not sure exactly what her agenda is. I just know you haven't been yourself lately. She had no business to tell you all that stuff she did. Why did she, anyway?"

"To get it off her chest," Jo said. "I know how it feels to be carrying around some big secret and all. I wish she hadn't...but I can get why she did. Why else would she?"

"How do you know she's not just making it up?"

"She showed me the letter Diana wrote."

"How do you know she didn't write it herself?"

"I_ don't_ know. Why would she?"

"She wants the part Lana's got, right? Maybe she's got something up her sleeve, and she wants you to help her."

"How could I possibly help her? If anything, she's got much more pull than I have, being so much more upper-crusty and all. I still have to wonder why Ms. Foster gave the part to Lana. I bet Lana went to her with some sob story about how she wanted to play it in Diana's memory, or some such. Although I'd think Ms. Foster would have better sense than to fall for it. But why would Nikki think I could help her?"

"Maybe she knows you've got a reputation for being, well, kind of a hellraiser, and thinks you can help her pull off some kind of sabotage?"

"She hasn't said a word about it."

"Maybe she's biding her time, fattening you up for the kill or something?"

"I think you're blowing this way out of proportion, Theo. I really don't think she's up to anything underhanded at all."

"Maybe not. But I still don't like it that she got you involved in all her crap. It's been giving you nightmares, hasn't it?"

"One nightmare. Well, I did have a dream the other night that wasn't so great, but..."

"Well, there you have it. She should have considered how young you are before unloading all that stuff on you. Surely she's got friends her own age she could have told it to?"

"I'm not _that _young," Jo said, a bit miffed that he considered her such an infant...which came as a bit of a shock, at that. "And you're older than me, so why are _you_ hanging out with me if it's so evil to do?"

"Not so much older. Just a few months. But she's what, three or four years older. It's just kinda fishy, Jo. I think whatever it is that's telling you to keep away from her is coming from a good place, and you should listen to it, that's what I think."

"Well, gee thanks, big daddy," she said nastily. "I'll be sure and do that." She started to sing, from _The Sound of Music_, "_I need someone older and wiser/Telling me what to doooo-oooo_..."

"I'm just looking out for your interest, Jo," Theo said in a patronizing big-brother tone that did nothing to lower the level of her dander. "No need to get snarky about it."

"Snarky is my default setting, haven't you heard?" And she flounced away and began walking with quick strides ahead of him. She heard him sigh but she did not look back, and kept going with her nose so high in the air that she didn't see the chair in her path until she had stumbled right over it and fallen flat on her face with it under her.

ooooo

"Are you ok, Jo?" Beth asked her. Jo lay flat on her back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, still in her pajamas. Beth was dressed, it being mid-morning. Jo had not spoken to Theo since their falling-out the previous day, although he had sent her two or three emails and one p.m. on Facebook.

"Yeah, I'm ok," Jo said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Beth sighed and sat on the edge of the other bed. Her wig was braided as usual, to keep it looking nice and not snarly. She wore a light-pink t-shirt with butterflies on it over her shorts. Jo couldn't help but notice how baggy the t-shirt was, where once it had fit Beth nicely.

"You just don't _seem_ ok," Beth said. "You're not feeling sick, are you?"

"No," Jo said. "Just...messed up. Theo and I had a fight yesterday."

"Oh no! About what?"

"Something totally stupid. I don't even remember now."

"Oh dear! Who started it?"

"Me, I guess. I'll go over and make up with him. But not right now. I don't think he's home anyway. How are _you_, Bethy?"

"Not so great," Beth sighed. "Are you mad at me because I've been spending so much time talking to Frank?"

"Frank who?" Jo sat up. Maybe it was time she stopped being such a butt. This was Beth, after all.

"I did tell you he shaved his whole head?" Beth said. "As a...a jester of solitude?"

"Gesture of solidarity," Jo said more gently. "Yeah, you told me. He must like you a lot."

"He said he wouldn't let his hair grow back until mine did," Beth said. "Until I was in remission, he said."

"That's really something," Jo said. She noticed how hollow Beth's eyes looked, how thin her cheeks and hands and legs were. She was starting to look like a concentration-camp survivor. There it was, that chilly horror in the core of Jo's being. Beth did not seem to be getting better.

"I miss having you read to me, Jo," she said after a moment. "It's been a while since I asked you, the way I've been talking to Frank on the computer and all. I was hoping you weren't put-out with me about it."

"Of course I'm not," Jo said. She got up and went to sit beside Beth.

"I love hearing you read," Beth said. "You do all the voices so well. Meg's pretty good, but not like you. Don't tell her I said that, ok?"

"Mum's the word," Jo said. "I could read some now. Want to?"

"Yes! Which book should we pick?"

"Whichever one you want. Let me get some clothes on. I don't think I could do the voices as well in my jammies."

She pulled on the shorts and tank top she had worn the previous day. Beth stooped beside the small bookcase.

"How about this one?" she said taking a small book out. "I don't think I've read it before. _Johnny Tremain_."

"Oh em gee," Jo exclaimed through her tank top, "that's one of my all-time favorites! I must have read it a bajillion times...although it's been a couple of years since I read it last. It's set in Boston during the American Revolution. You've never read it, truly? I'm _sooo_ glad you picked that one, Bethy! You are in for a treat."

Beth beamed as only she could, despite her peakedness, and brought the book to Jo.

"Let's go to the back yard," she said. "Amy's painting there, maybe she'd like to hear too."

Jo was not too keen on the idea of Amy listening; she would probably only make dumb remarks throughout the reading. But wishing to please Beth, Jo took the book without a word and they repaired out back and sat together on the striped patio swing. Amy was painting a picture of Mimi, who lay asleep in a wicker chair, with water colors.

"You're getting better all the time, Amy," Beth said.

Amy grinned. Trust Beth to get her in a good humor. Jo smiled and began to read.

After the first chapter she paused, saying, "Shall I go on?" Beth nodded raptly. Jo read the next chapter, noting that Amy had not said a word. Her voice cracked a time or two, but she did not stop except for occasional bathroom breaks, until Hannah came out and said it was time to start lunch.

"I simply _love_ Johnny," Beth declared over lunch, which they took out on the porch. It was a beautiful day, warm and clear, and the breeze blew the scent of roses, honeysuckle, and pine needles about the yard. "Even though he's so bad and all. Well, maybe 'bad' isn't really the right word. He's just..."

"Flawed," Jo said with her mouth full of chicken salad.

"Yes, that's it," Beth said with a sip of iced tea. "He's so cocky and conceited and even kind of mean sometimes...but there's just something about him that totally gets me. I'm so sorry for him because he hurt himself so bad, but I'm sure it will make him a better person in the end... It will, won't it?" She looked at Jo with her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe," Jo said with a wink.

"I like the fairy lady on the cup handles," Amy said delicately retrieving a cracker crumb from the front of her shirt. "I didn't know Paul Revere was a silversmith. Maybe I'll be one too."

"You haven't seen that painting of him, with the silver teapot in his hand?" Jo said. "I forgot the artist's name, but we've got it in a book somewhere. Maybe you could copy it."

"Johnny reminds me of Frank, just a little," Beth said thoughtfully. "He never would have even looked my way if he had not gotten hurt so bad, you know. He would have looked at you, or Meg, or both. Not at me. I think getting hurt and crippled made him better too. Do you think he was more like Fred before his accident, Jo?"

"I wouldn't know," Jo said. "All I know is what Theo told me. I think Fred is full of it. A typical guy. I can't imagine that...Theo...was ever even remotely like him."

Hannah brought out strawberries and cream later, and after that delightful treat the reading resumed. Amy finished her painting and began another, and she made very few remarks and those were not so dumb after all. Jo did not have rehearsal to go to that day, so she ended up reading the entire book that afternoon. As she read, she found herself transported out of the gloomy pit she had dug herself into, and placed gently down into a time-tunnel in eighteenth-century Boston, under an even brighter and bluer sky than the one above, and the dark and sludgy matter that had accumulated inside of her began to dissolve and disintegrate, washing away as though a refreshing summer shower were falling over it, leaving the ground beneath it cool and clean smelling. And from the forbidden box full of ugly phantoms and stinging monsters, a little winged figure emerged, very like the little lady on the silver cup handles, but rainbow colored and smiling and as soft to the touch as a velvet petal, as healing as rain and sleep and time and stories.

Beth gave a deep sigh when Jo finished the book. She had been leaning her head on Jo's shoulder, and Jo had been afraid she was falling asleep. But Beth sat up and looked radiantly at her.

"That was wonderful," she said. "I didn't want it to end. I'd hate to think I might never have gotten to hear it. Where has it _been _all my life? Is there a sequel? Did Esther Forbes write any other stories?"

"Yeah, but I haven't seen them," Jo said. "I looked at the library, but didn't find a sequel."

"Maybe _you _could write one, Jo," Beth suggested with bright and twinkling eyes. "I bet you could. Did Johnny survive the Revolution? Did he marry Cilla? I hope he did. I just get goosebumps when I remember that line, 'So a man can stand up.' But wasn't it sad about Rab? I liked him almost as much as Johnny."

Meg and Mrs. March came home just before supper, and Beth talked about the book throughout the meal, while Jo looked out the window where the sun was just about to set in the distant hills. And then she remembered something her mother had said some months ago.

_Do not let the sun go down upon your anger, Jo_. Words she had almost forgotten.

"'Scuse me," she said as Hannah went to the kitchen to bring out the dessert, peach cobbler. "I need to go make a little call on a neighbor. You guys go ahead without me, 'k? I'll be back in a bit."

And she slid out of her chair and went out front in the direction of the house across the street, only to see Theo coming out his front gate, for the same purpose as hers, without a doubt.


	24. A Heart Full of Love

24. A Heart Full of Love

"Guess what," Theo said as he and Jo went hiking over The Hill, as someone had so imaginatively named the steep slope far back of the Laurence home. They had gone up there for the simple purpose of yelling, which produced lovely and rather spooky echoes from the hollow below. They were sure it must have unnerved any denizens who might be living thereabouts, although there were no visible abodes. Jo had decided her mom was right, it was summer and she really should be out dancing and singing and skipping about waving daisy chains, and there really was something to be said for Life's Simple Pleasures, it wasn't just another sixties song.

And so here she and Theo were. She wore an old pair of overalls that had been cut off above the knees, over an older t-shirt that said IF LIFE GIVES YOU LEMURS, MAKE LEMURNADE. She had recently found it at a yard sale for fifty cents.

"You got your horse back?" she said.

"Not yet. But the prospects are good. Fred Vaughn told me you'd made a boy scout out of me."

"Bitchin'. I should get a horse of my own for that."

"Yeah, you should. So, guess again."

"You and Parker Stokes are engaged?"

"Har de har har. One more guess."

"You're Christian Bale in disguise."

"Nope. Chuck Norris."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I'm out of guesses now, right? So spill it."

"Brooke finally broke up with Lois."

"Oh," Jo yawned, "the Sphincter? The way you were carrying on, I thought it was going to be something interesting. Remind me never to trust you again."

John Brooke's fiancée was named Lois Spencer. Jo usually referred to her as The Sphincter or The Spinster. She was a rabbity blonde who looked like a strong breeze might whisk her away, but she had been seen to literally tackle John Brooke as though he were a football dummy, assaulting his tonsils in broad daylight, and on the church steps, at that. Jo had declared it made her feel like hurting herself.

"She didn't take it well," Theo chuckled. "She threw an ashtray at him. He had to have stitches. She might look like the most helpless little creature on the planet, but she's got one hellacious temper. I think she demolished the whole room."

"That's what he gets for having such...questionable judgment," Jo said leaping upward to slap at a pine branch. "What did he see in her anyway? I never even thought she was attractive. And her predilection for trying to jump his bones in front of God and everybody did little to make her a shining example of decorum, to say the very least. And don't even get me started on that voice of hers. Cripes. She made Snow White sound like Lurch. Gives a whole new meaning to the words 'pierced ears'."

"I am much inclined to agree," Theo said with a wink. "I don't suppose she told you about yesterday?"

"No, she didn't. Actually I never even met her but once, mercifully briefly, and that was last year."

"I meant Meg. She didn't tell you about the rehearsal yesterday?"

"No," Jo said, "but she had this look all over her face like she knew something I didn't know. And she picked at her food all through supper, then she shut herself up in the schoolroom and put 'A Heart Full of Love' on the boombox and sang along softly with it. You don't..."

Then it dawned on her what Theo was getting at. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"I saw her and Brooke rehearsing the duet," Theo said. "And then I saw them seriously lip-locked."

"You didn't!"

"I did," Theo stopped also.

"They were...just...rehearsing," Jo stammered.

"Poor old Michael," Theo said with a deep sigh. "He'll be singing Eponine's part before long. If he isn't already."

"Shit," Jo said, and could think of nothing more, except, "Oh...shit!"

"You know what else?"

"I don't think I want to know."

"Didn't Meg lose her bracelet at the cookout?"

"Yeah, the white-gold one Mrs. Mathers gave her for her birthday. She took it off to play volleyball and it fell out of her pocket, and she forgot about it until next day, but when she went back to look for it, she couldn't find it. What..."

"I know where it is. He keeps saying he's going to give it back to her...but I saw him fondling it the other day like Gollum with his Precious."

"Ohhhh, _shit_!" Jo said between clenched teeth.

ooooo

It was quite true that Meg had had a massive crush on John Brooke when she was twelve. She had considered him most romantically handsome and mysterious, and she had caught him looking at her from time to time in the church almost as if he knew what she was thinking. They rarely spoke to each other, and when they did it was along the lines of _I believe we're going to get some more snow, do you think_, or _Sister Lucy picked a great song for the Youth Choir this morning, didn't she?_ Things like that. But one day Meg announced to Jo that she was going to marry Mr. Brooke when she grew up.

_What if he marries somebody else?_ Jo had said in her ruthlessly unromantic manner. _He won't,_ Meg had calmly replied. _Because I'M going to_. Jo went _Ptttttt _with her eyes crossed and her tongue out, the way she always did when someone brought up "mushy stuff."

Then he graduated high school and went on to college, and Meg saw less and less of him, and gradually forgot him as she moved on to the business of being a girl. And Eddy Moffat began to notice her. He and John seemed two sides of the same coin. Eddy sometimes frightened her a little with his swagger and bluster and loud laughter. He was the pirate prince, where John was the romantic hero, and someday the two would meet with swords and fight for her honor. Or so she liked to think, although she did not fool herself that it would actually happen. And them perhaps they would somehow merge into one, the perfect man, and would scoop her up and carry her off to his castle...

Then John got engaged to Lois Spencer, and she had to give up her dream. What he could see in Lois, she couldn't imagine herself. Perhaps it was her singing voice. It was rumored she could hit a high F, although Meg had never heard her do so. Jo remarked that she could probably hit notes only dogs could hear. Meg had a pretty high range herself, and she would start to practice hitting very high notes, until Jo said the neighbors would get the cops on them if she kept it up. So it looked like she would never get John's attention again.

But now they were playing lovers and it had made her feel weird at first, when he was engaged to someone else. Very weird. Almost not right. It took some doing to pledge to herself that she would never let it get beyond the stage. They were both playing parts in an opera, that was all. There was nothing else between them. Just air, as Gene Kelly's character said in _Singin' in the Rain. _Maybe not even that much.

And then she had come in to the building one day, and heard him singing "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" for the first time. She had not known he had such a lovely voice, nor that he could sing with such raw and obvious feeling, and she had halted in the wings of the stage, just watching, with wide eyes and parted lips, hoping he would not see her. And she found herself in a place she had never truly been, except in her dreams, on a tightrope suspended over twin realms, one consisting of supernal bliss and faery music, the other of endless sorrow and snapping flames, and any moment she could fall into either, yet she knew there was no going back.

And as he finished the song, his eyes met hers, and she wondered if he knew she had been there all along, watching, and he continued to look at her, and she at him, and she forgot that it was wrong to do so, and continued to let his eyes gather her in, beckon and surrender, ask and answer, possess and belong. Such lovely eyes, big and brown, so soulful and longing.

And then there was the kiss, and the next day he came in with a bandage over his left eye, and he took her into a back room and told her that although he knew they could not be officially engaged yet, he was willing to wait for her as long as it was necessary. And he took her bracelet from his pocket and gave it to her, apologizing for keeping it so long as he had, but it had a hold on him he could not release.

And he began singing "I Loved You Once in Silence" from _Camelot_, and she with him... Well, actually they didn't, but it always seemed to her that they did, and in her mind for a long time to come, they sang it and would continue to sing it until the silence was broken for all time...

ooooo

"I think you made up the kissy-poo part, to get a rise out of me," Jo said. They sat beside a brook that flowed on the other side of the hill, its banks grown with ferns and wild flowers and mushrooms, along with the occasional white birch sapling. "Well, it worked."

"Yep, I made it up," Theo said perversely. "Hey, can you do this?" He picked up a flat rock and skimmed it over the water.

"Yeah, I can do that," she said, but she didn't. Meg and Mr. Brooke. Mr. Brooke and Meg. She wasn't seeing it.

"Come on, Jo," Theo said with an exasperated sigh. "Is it so hard to picture Brooke as your brother-in-law? He's a boy scout, like me. Except he was one the day he was born. I bet you he won't touch her until she's old enough to be engaged to him...if not married."

"It's not so much that," Jo said pulling off her shoes and socks and dangling her feet in the cool water. "It's the idea of anybody intruding themselves into our family. I want us to continue the way we are. I guess you don't understand, since you don't have any brothers or sisters. I don't want anyone breaking us up. Why do things have to change, anyway?"

"I didn't figure you for such a woolly little conservative," Theo said puckering his eyebrows. "Don't you ever want to get married?"

"I dunno," Jo mumbled, fixing her eyes on the pebbly bottom of the clear streamlet, and the little fishes that came to nibble at her toes. "I don't like the idea of being all hemmed in. Having to answer to a husband and all. Having to be at his beck and call. I'd make a lousy wife. I like my freedom. I guess I eavesdrop too much, being a writer and everything. I listen to those women at church talking. They seem to have such small, silly lives. I can't imagine being one of them. And don't even get me started on having kids. I see too much of the way kids act at school. There's not much that makes me want to have any of my own. And the PTA, oh em gee. Yuck. It totally does not appeal to me. I like to go my own way, and do my own thing. Stop me before I launch into a chorus of 'Don't Fence Me In'."

"I know what you mean," Theo said. She looked sharply at him. Yeah, it was well and good for _her _to feel that way. But him? That didn't seem so well and good somehow. "Still and all, wouldn't it be kind of, well, lonely? Or wouldn't it get that way after a while?"

"I could get a dog. A dog wouldn't care if I got saggy boobs, either. Not that I have _any_ kind of boobs."

"Besides, I don't think Meg's that way. She seems to me like the kind who would like the whole getting married thing, taking care of hubby, having kids, even the PTA. She'd make a good wife and a good mom, I bet. And she couldn't do better than Brooke."

"But what about her _career_?" Jo protested. "That's another thing. She wants to be on Broadway and all. I can't picture her throwing it all away for some guy. She should at least marry somebody who's rich, who could get her into show biz and all, help her realize her dream. I was going to write plays and she was going to act in them. We made a pact like that a few years ago. She can't just haul off and break it, it's not right."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jo," Theo said, "but I don't think Meg would last long on Broadway. Not because she doesn't have talent, but because it's such a big doggie-dog mean world out there. They'd eat her up alive. I think she'd do better to marry a nice guy and sing in choir and act in the Arts Council plays and stuff. She'd be much happier that way, don't you think?"

"I've thought kind of the same of Beth, but I think Meg's tougher than that," Jo said. "I bet she could fight her way."

"Do you," Theo said, not so much as a question as an acknowledgment.

"Yeah, I do," Jo said. And then she caught his eyes looking directly at her.

"Know what you need, Jo?" he said softly.

It was a moment before she answered, looking away from him. "No...what?"

"A Klondike bar," he said giving her a little shove. "Dark chocolate."

She shoved him right into the water, and laughed.

ooooo

"How do you like it?" Meg asked as she stood in the living-room door. Everyone gasped. She wore a low-necked long gown of pure white trimmed with beautiful lace, a long veil on her head streaming down from a wreath of white roses.

"Mrs. Gardiner finished it today," Meg explained. "She's fixing my other costume. It was a little too tight under the arms. I just hope I'm not gaining weight."

Jo's jaw fairly fell on the floor.

"Holy..." she said, and nothing else would come out.


	25. I Know What You Did Last Summer

25. I Know What You Did Last Summer

_Theo, this is too weird for words. Meg in love, I mean._

_What did I tell ya?;)_

_It's as if the old Meg has been totally scooped out and a brand-new one installed. Same face, same body, same hair, same clothes, same voice, but what was inside it all bears little, if any, resemblance to the new Meg._

_So what does she do?_

_Oh, she floats around the house with a dreamy little smile on her face, and it increases to a glow when she looks at you, like she's got a 1000-watt lightbulb inside of her. She'll sit humming or singing to herself, and if you speak her name she looks at you like you're speaking swahili. She giggles or blushes like a poppy if anyone mentions John Brooke's name. The other day I heard her singing "Till there was you." I don't know how much longer I can take it._

_The ol' love bug has done bit her. Brooke too. There's weddin' bells in the air._

_What about Brooke? How does he act?_

_Come on over and have a look-see._

_No thanks. I'm afraid I might end up stabbing my eyes out._

_Your turn will come, Jo. LOL_

_Oh crap, now you sound like Uncle Charles._

"Cupid's dart has stuck in her," Hannah said as they sat about in the afternoon watching an _I Love Lucy_ rerun. And, of course... "This is just the beginning. It gets worse."

"I'm _so_ glad it's Mr. Brooke," Beth said, on the couch where she sat next to Jo with Mimi in her lap. "I'd love to have him in our family. Even though it's weird to think of my piano teacher being my _brother-in-law, _of all things."

"At least he's fairly cute," Amy said from her usual spot on the floor right in front of the TV. "Of course, it would be much better if he had more money. He doesn't even have a house of his own, does he? And he's so _old._ That's what's so freaky. He should stick to girls his own age."

"For once, I agree," Jo said. "Then again, Meg is Meg. I suppose he can't help himself. But he could at least _try._"

"I wonder if they've made out yet," Amy said leaning thoughtfully back on her hands.

"Amy!" Beth exclaimed.

"What? I'm just wondering if he's a good kisser," Amy said innocently. Jo snerked.

"You're too young to be wondering about such things, li'l missy," Hannah scolded. "And Mr. Brooke is a fine young man. I'm sure he knows to keep his hands to himself."

"Crap," Jo said. "He can't be so goody-goody as all that. Guys are all natural-born horndogs."

"Are you forgetting he's taking care of his mother?" Hannah said. "She's in a nursing home and may die any time. From what I hear, he's quite devoted to her."

"She's in a nursing home?" Amy said. "I thought only old people were in those. _Real_ old people, I mean, like Aunt Martha, or Mrs. Mathers."

"She had him late in life," Hannah explained. "She was past forty, I think. Her health went downhill after that. She had a massive stroke when she was only about sixty-five or so, and has heart trouble on top of it. She could go off any day now."

Jo was about to say something snarky, then stopped herself. She had known John's mother was ill, but had not really given the matter much thought before. Ergh...

"And poor Mr. Brooke lost his father _and_ his brother," Beth sighed. "I can't begin to imagine that. He's entitled to some happiness, I think. I know Meg can give it to him."

"Oh by the way," Hannah said snapping her fingers, "I almost forgot, crazy me. Must be this infernal heat wave. You got something in the mail, Jo. Here it is right here."

She picked up an envelope from the little table next to her chair and tossed it to Jo. When Jo saw the return address her eyes popped to twice their size, and she jumped up and went into the dining room, where hands trembled as she fairly ripped the envelope open.

"I WON THE STORY PRIZE!" she screamed a moment later, bouncing up and down as if on an invisible pogo stick. "ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS! I'M RICH!"

ooooo

"Soooo, Jo," Theo said later the same evening, as he sat down to dinner with the Marches, "what are you gonna do with such a vast fortune? Take a Carnival cruise?"

"I'm not sure yet," Jo said. "I'm feeling generous. Maybe I'll buy everybody some presents. What would everybody like?"

"You'd do better to put it in a savings account, Jo," her mother said. "Put it toward your college fund."

"Oh, what fun is _that_?" Amy protested. "I could use some more oil paints," she said making big eyes at Jo. "And a one-inch brush. My old one is all stiff."

"What about you, Beth?" Jo said.

"Oh...I don't know," Beth said pinking a little. "All I really want is for Daddy to come home, and to have my health back. But I know you couldn't buy that for me."

"How about a new piano book?" Jo said. "We can think small."

"That would be nice," Beth said. "Or a reading book maybe?"

"Just name your poison," Jo said. "Meg? How about you?"

"Huh?" Meg looked up blankly. She had been just sitting there humming as if she were all by herself. Everyone laughed.

"Dare I ask you what your heart's desire might be?" Jo said. "Other than the obvious."

"Oh, I don't need anything, dearie," Meg said with a beatific smile. "You could make a charitable donation in my name, if you must spend your hard-earned money on me. That would be a gesture of sheer loveliness."

Jo glanced aside at Theo with a see-what-I-mean expression.

"Hannah?" she said. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm the gal who has everything," Hannah said with a little flip of her hand, which still wore an oven mitt. "Don't worry about me. Maybe a set of new potholders. These have definitely seen better days."

"Mom?" Jo raised her eyebrows at Mrs. March.

"You could buy me a long-stemmed yellow rosebud," her mother said with a big smile.

"How about a yellow rosebush?"

"Even better."

"You got it. Last but not least...how 'bout you, Theo?"

"I could do with a new pair of nail clippers," he said. "I lost my old ones. The file was broken off anyway."

More laughter. Jo grinned.

"What are you going to buy for yourself, Jo?" Hannah asked.

"Haven't decided yet," Jo said. "I'll have to make a special trip to Barnes & Noble."

"Ah," Hannah said. "Well. So when do we get to read this fine story?"

"You can read it online any time," Jo said.

"Well, to be honest with you, I'm an old-fashioned kinda gal," Hannah said, "and I'd much rather read it offline, or hear it read to me. And you're the expert reader in the family, what?"

"Okey dokey then," Jo said. "Shall we gather round the back porch? Although I think it would go much better after dark."

"What's the title?" Amy asked.

"'The Phantom of Ferguson's Point'," Jo said.

"Hmm," Theo said putting a hand to his chin. "That has a familiar ring somehow. Is it about what I think it's about?"

"It's the harrowing tale of two sisters named Adrienne and Ashleigh Summerfield," Jo said, "set in a remote and windy New England village in the mountains. They are identical twins, but completely different in character. Adrienne is an ethereal beauty of pure heart and unquestionable virtue, while Ashleigh is temperamental and jealous and scheming. Both aspire to be opera divas, and both are in love with the same man."

"Guess that answers my question," Theo said with a little upward glance and whistle.

"Those are pretty names," Beth said. "I'm curious."

After Jo had finished the story, Theo clapped enthusiastically, while Beth gave a little shiver.

"That was _scary_," she said. "I had shivers up and down my spine the whole time."

"It's good," Amy said, "but the ending was kind of weird. Didn't Ashleigh get her comeuppance for causing Adrienne's death, and die in some gruesome way?"

"I preferred to have Ashleigh live with her guilty conscience," Jo said. "After all, she did end up in the insane asylum."

"Maybe you could write a sequel," Beth said. "Perhaps Ashleigh could be redeemed or something, and devote her life to doing good deeds in her sister's memory. I did like it that Adrienne's lover finally joined her in the afterlife, although it was too bad they scared all the living couples that walked in Ferguson's Point."

"It _is_ good, of its kind," Mrs. March said, "but I think you could do much better, Jo, if you put your mind to it. Why not write of real life, instead of ghosts and suicides and such morbid things?"

"Real life is too boring," Jo said shortly. "At least, mine is. I never have any adventures to speak of."

Then she looked at Meg, who was looking straight at her, and her expression was somehow disturbing.

ooooo

At the theater nearly everyone congratulated Jo on her win. All but Lana Babcock, that is. Jo didn't know if she ever read the story or not, and she was morbidly curious.

And Nikki Landon, to whom Jo had barely spoken since her disclosure. Jo wished she could bring herself to go talk to Nikki, who after all had supplied the inspiration for the story, but she felt too guilty for having avoided her for so long.

If Lana had read it, she gave no signs of it. Going about her part as usual, and she was actually getting better, putting more honest emotion into it. Somewhat disgruntled, Jo sat beside Theo watching her.

"I don't think she ever saw hide nor hair of the story," she muttered to him. "Even though I posted the link on my LiveJournal, and my Youtube channel too."

"Want me to drop her a strong hint?" he asked.

She thought a moment. "Nah, I'll do it myself. Although I don't know that it will accomplish anything."

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to wait till after the last performance?" Theo asked. "If it happens she's too messed up about it, it might affect the whole show."

"Nikki can play the part. And play it better, I'll warrant you."

"Well, whatever you think. The first performance is in a week and a half."

"I know."

Later on Jo and Theo and the other guys rehearsed their scenes, and Jo enjoyed it quite a bit, especially when Ms. Foster praised her energy and enthusiasm.

"You even did a good job playing a dead body," she said. "It brought tears to my eyes. Just be careful about bending over with your back to the audience, ok?"

Jo was feeling quite generous after that. Even toward Lana. Maybe she'd just forget about posting those links.

Then as she was going to the girls' dressing room to get fitted for her costume, she heard an unmistakable voice coming from the left wing of the stage.

"Did you _see_ how she was looking at him?" Lana was saying. "You don't suppose there's a little, um, behind-the-scenes romance going on, do you?"

The girl she had spoken to said something, but Jo couldn't quite catch it. It was Karyn Finney's voice. Jo moved nearer the better to hear what they were saying.

"Well, it looks like she's out of luck then," Lana said with a little snicker. "He's engaged, or so I've heard. And much too old for her. He's twenty-six if he's a day. But he was looking at her like...hmmm..."

"He's _engaged_?" Karyn said. "Oh, _God_.Are you _kidding _me?"

"Jo, what are you doing?" Meg's voice startled Jo, who jumped and turned to look at her sister, who was with Sally. Jo put a finger to her lips, pointing in the direction of Lana and Karyn.

"...gonna be some major fireworks when the fiancée gets wind of it," Lana was saying. "I'd like to be around when _that _happens. It'd make plenty more drama than the musical, I bet. Meg had better watch it."

"You're not going to _tell _her, are you Lana?" Karyn said. "You _wouldn't_...would you?"

"Shoot, I don't even know her name," Lana giggled. "But she's bound to find out sooner or later. How long do you suppose they've been at it?"

"Do you think they've...?" Karyn's voice dropped a little.

"Oh, perish the thought," Lana said. "She's much too _puuuure_. Don't ya think?"

In an undertone she started singing "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee" from _Grease._ Karyn sang a line or two with her, then collapsed in snerky giggles.

"Ohhh, the _nerve_ of her!" Sally said in a loud whisper, between clenched teeth. The expression sat very oddly on her, and it looked slightly scary. Meg was darkly flushed, which was even scarier.

"Come on, guys," she said a moment later. "We have better things to do than listen to their nasty talk. Jo-don't you even think about it. Come on. Now."

Jo woodenly followed her sister into the dressing room.

"I've a good mind to go tell Ms. Foster," Sally muttered. "Then maybe she'll kick Lana's scuzzy ass right into next Tuesday, and then we'll be well rid of her."

"No, don't tell her a thing, Sally," Meg said. "There'd just be all kinds of repercussions we don't need to be dealing with. It's all right, honestly. I just don't take the slightest heed of her."

"She's still jealous because Eddy likes you and not her," Sally fumed. "He told me he couldn't stand her...not that you can believe a word _he_ says or anything. But still, that doesn't give her the right to go around spreading mean gossip behind your back. I never heard of anything so low."

Jo drew her mouth to one side, a habit she had been developing lately, although Amy said it looked totally dorky. Then she cleared her throat.

"Hey guys," she said softly with a little jerk of her head, "it so happens I've got some serious dirt on Miss Bitch-a-rama too. Gather round."

ooooo

_Well Theo, I done gone and done it. I totally spilled the proverbial beans. I hope I don't come to regret it_.

_So Meg and Sally know. What do they think about it?_

_About what you'd expect. I think I'm already starting to regret it. But in a way I'm relieved too._

_Think it's going to make any difference in the grand scheme of things?_

_I don't know. Lana's still up there, strutting her stuff and running that filth factory of a mouth of hers. I'm dying to put her in her place._

_So do it already. I'll back you up. I've had enough of her bullshit myself._

_I would, but Meg insists that I don't. Sometimes I'd like to shake her up good._

_Yeah. What's up with her anyway._

_Well, it's not like I can prove anything. All I've got is what Nikki told me. And Nikki and I don't even have much to say to each other any more._

_Maybe you don't have to prove it. Lana knows what she knows. _

_Yeah, well._

_I'll have to catch you later, Jo. The dinner gong is ringing. Seeya in the funny papers._

_Ok. Ciao for nao._

_Hasta la vista baby._

Jo sat staring glumly at the monitor, without seeing what was on it. Crap, she thought. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Now what?

Almost against her will, she pulled up Lana's Youtube channel. She watched a minute or two of several videos, wondering why she was doing so.

And she noticed the one of Lana and Diana was missing. _Hmmm. Methinks she suspects we're onto her? Or could she actually be growing a conscience?_

And her fingers began typing into the message box. Then without moving to click on the Post button, she just sat looking at the words she had typed.

_I know what you did last summer._

She quivered inside, just reading what she had typed. _Do I dare?_ she thought. _Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach_...

_Do it,_ said a tiny voice on her left shoulder. _Just do it._

_I don't need your advice,_ she whispered to it. _ Piss off._

_Come on. You know you want to_.

_Of course I want to. That's beside the point._

Ok, Jojo. Enough with the talking to the voices in your head stuff. People are going to think you're some kind of whack job.

_I know what you did last summer..._

And her hand moved toward the mouse. And the courser moved toward the Post button, and paused...

"Jo?" Beth's voice made her jump almost out of her chair. "Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just...well, look what Mrs. Mathers gave me. She found it among her daughter's things, she'd forgotten she had it. She said it was one of Alice's favorite books when she was a little girl. Have you read this one, Jo?"

Jo looked at the book Beth held. Quite an old one. _The Good Master,_ by Kate Seredy.

"By golly, I think I have," she said grinning, taking the book and opening it. "It's been a while, sixth grade I think, or maybe fifth. And it's a darn good one too."

And Beth beamed as only Beth could beam, and Jo's hand moved the mouse once more, easing the cursor toward the Cancel button, flushing the words from her mind and heart for all time.

"So what are we waiting for?" she said with a big grin for Beth.

ooooo

"You guys are so not gonna believe this," Sally said at rehearsal next day. "Lana's in the hospital. They had to rush her there yesterday. She tried to hang herself."


	26. Listening to the Voices

26. Listening to the Voices

"I feel in part to blame," Marguerite Foster said after she had managed to calm everyone down to a reasonable degree. "Yesterday I caught her and Karyn Finney talking trash about certain cast members, which as you all know is against the rules, and so I dismissed them and gave Lana's part to Nikki Landon, who will now play Eponine."

General buzz throughout the room. A young man remarked that that was taking drama-queening to a whole new level. Jo turned to glance at Nikki, who did not look overjoyed.

"I caught her doing so a couple of weeks ago," Ms. Foster continued, "and I issued her a warning, which she has chosen not to heed. I'm very sorry it came to what it did, but when I make a rule, they apply to everyone, not just the principle characters."

"You're not to blame, Ms. Foster," Lucy Maddox said. "It was what you had to do. That girl was emotionally unstable. I picked up on that more than once. It's sad, but if you didn't enforce the rules, the result would be total chaos."

There were several murmurs of agreement.

"She did read my story," Jo said, barely above the noise, to no one in particular. She had been overcome with dizziness when Sally delivered the news, so that Meg and Theo had to make her sit down before she fell on her face. They all sat in seats before the orchestra pit now, while Ms. Foster stood above it with a cordless microphone. "She effing read it. That must have been what it was. But I never once supposed she'd go and hang herself. Damn."

_Are you so sure of that?_ the nasty little voice on her left shoulder whispered to her. _Just what DID you think she'd do?_

_I just wanted to take her down a notch. Wipe that smirk off her face for all time. Make her quit talking shit. That's all._

_Well, looks like you succeeded. She's in a catatonic state. Happy now? _

_Shut the hell up. I'm sick of your crap. Go guilt-trip somebody else for a change._

Ms. Foster went on to say there would be no rehearsal today, although those who wanted to help work on sets and props and costumes could stay and do so. Then she said the show would go on as planned, and the next rehearsal would be as scheduled, and with that she dismissed everyone.

"She did read the story," Jo said to Meg as they went backstage to help with the production. "It's my fault. She read it...although I must say she gave no sign of it."

"No, it wasn't, Jo," Nikki said behind her. Jo whirled about, startled and guilty. "It was mine. I gave her Diana's letter. I put it in her bag just before she left yesterday afternoon. No, it wasn't because I wanted her part. I already had that after Ms. Foster dismissed her. It just...well, I guess you could say the letter just got to be too much for me to carry any more. It was getting to be a millstone around my neck. I thought Lana ought to have it. So I put it in her bag, and told her I'd left her a little message from a certain someone she knew. But I didn't think it would put her over the edge like that. I doubt she ever saw your story, Jo."

Jo gave a huge sigh of shaky relief.

"I'm sorry I've been so cold to you, Nikki," she said. "But..."

"That was my fault too, Jo," Nikki said. "I had no business burdening you with all that stuff. I was tired of keeping it to myself, but I shouldn't have pushed it off on you. I can't blame you for staying away. Maybe you were right to do so."

Jo glanced aside at Theo, who was standing with his hands in his pockets looking rather darkly at Nikki. She wondered if he had been talking to the older girl. Surely not. It was unlikely he would have kept it from Jo.

"Well, I don't think you should feel too bad about Lana," she said. "She did what she did, and it was bound to tell on her sooner or later. Think she'll come out of it?"

"I don't know," Nikki said with a little shrug. "Well, looks like I'm Eponine now. I just wish I felt happier about it."

"You'll be great, Nikki," Meg said with a little smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's to be you. I think the show will go much better now."

"Me too," Theo said and the dark look vanished. "It was getting so I almost didn't enjoy coming here any more, because of her. I think Meg is right. It will be a lot more fun."

"I couldn't agree more," Sally said. "She was souring up the whole production. And I'm so glad I don't have to snitch on her after all."

Jo managed to smile a bit then.

"Thanks, guys," Nikki said. "I look forward to working with you. I just wish there was a little more time. I've definitely got my work cut out for me."

"Good riddance to Karyn Finney too," Deborah Weinstein said. "That little nitwit was almost as irritating as Lana. Well, looks like I've got her part now, such as it was."

"Careful, guys," John Brooke said. "Ms. Foster might not take kindly to us talking about others even if they're not in the show any more. Why don't we all go out and get some pizza?"

"Sounds like a winner to me," Jo said. "I'm loaded now, I'll buy."

"No way," John said. "My idea, my treat. Let's head on out to Leonardo's."

"I'm in," Parker Stokes said.

"Me too," Sally said.

"Me three," said Deborah.

"I'll take a rain check," Nikki said. "I really need to go over my lines and stuff, refresh my memory. Have fun, you guys."

Leonardo's MasterPizza was more expensive than Pizza Inn or Domino's, but it was well worth it. Leonardo was a little bald man with a big black mustache and eyebrows, who looked like a cross between Danny DeVito and Groucho Marx. "Leonardo" was not his real name, but he was called that because his pizzas were all incomparable works of art. On the wall near the entrance hung a poster showing Mona Lisa with a pizza in front of her, and the words, "At last we know what she's _really_ smiling about." All in all, it was pretty classy for a pizza joint. It even had wine bottles on the tables with candles stuck in them, and curtains at the windows, and Italian music playing over the intercom.

"Well, I'll be a son of a monkey's godmother," Parker said as they were being seated at one of the long tables. "Isn't that Karyn Finney over there?"

Karyn jerked her head around as she heard her name being spoken. She was sitting in a booth with a boy Jo remotely recognized as a former admirer of Lana Babcock.

"Oh...hi, guys," Karyn stammered with a slightly guilty look, tucking back a shortish lock of ash-blonde hair with a habitual gesture. "I didn't hear you come in."

_Yeah, right,_ thought Jo. _You wouldn't have heard a choo-choo train come in either, would you?_

"Hi, Karyn," Meg said rather coolly.

"Hi, Meg," Karyn said looking nervously at the group, which was clearly cornering her with its eyes. "Umm...this is my boyfriend, Mark Reilly. You know him, don't you?"

"Hi, Mark," Meg said. Mark nodded at her, looking a bit puzzled. Jo grinned to herself. She suspected that Karyn had been whining to him about how un_faaaaair_ it was for her to get kicked out of the show and all, or else she had made up some story about how she didn't want to be in it any more. "How's Lana, Karyn?"

"Umm...I haven't seen her since yesterday," Karyn said flushing a little. "I'm not sure she's allowed to have visitors yet."

"Is she still...what's that word again?" Sally said looking to Meg and Jo.

"Catatonic," Jo said.

"What she said," Sally jerked her head at Jo.

"I don't know," Karyn said. "I...well, I know she does say some bad things about other girls sometimes, but since I haven't seen her since yesterday..."

Jo snorted. The airhead thought she meant "catty." Deborah looked across the table at her with twinkling eyes, and quickly put her napkin over her mouth.

"Meg," Karyn pleaded, "I'm really sorry about those things I said. I didn't mean any of it. I was just...being...stupid, you know? Sometimes Lana brings out the worst in me."

"So why do you hang out with her?" Jo said. Karyn started.

"Well...we've been friends ever since we were kids," she explained. "You don't just throw that all away on a _whim_. And she's not so bad _all _the time. I think...she never quite got over her sister's death, and it's been stressing her out. She just _worshiped _Diana. You know? I think Ms. Foster could have taken that into consideration."

"Hmmm," Parker said, "seems I've heard differently. How 'bout you, Deb?"

"Somehow, I have too," Theo said. "You, Jo?"

"Come on, guys," Meg said, somewhat to Jo's relief. She was not really looking for a confrontation, at least not here. "Let's get a menu, shall we? I'm hungry."

Jo had to lift her eyebrows. It was very unlike Meg to admit to being hungry.

They had a grand time, and no one noticed when Karyn and Mark left the pizzeria as Parker led them all in a chorus of "Can You Hear the People Sing". They started out softly, and several people turned to look at them, and Jo could see Leonardo beaming from where he was tossing a crust. Some of the boys stamped their feet on the floor in rhythm, while Jo and Deborah tapped on their soda glasses with forks, and the singing grew ever louder, and most of the people around them applauded when it was done. And Parker stood up on his chair and encouraged them all to come to the performance next weekend.

For the next few days the rehearsals went more smoothly than they ever had, and Lana was more or less forgotten. One day as Jo rehearsed with John and Theo and Parker and the others, she saw Meg sitting on a prop sofa with Stephanie Wexler, who played little Cosette. Meg alternately watched John Brooke and listened to Stephanie chatter about her animals-she had two cats, a puppy, three goldfish, a rabbit, and a budgie. She adored Meg and was leaning against her, with Meg's arm around her. And Jo thought of what Theo had said about her.

She really _would_ make a good mother.

"You know what?" Sally said later, as they were leaving the theater. "I heard nobody's been to see Lana in the hospital at all. Not even Karyn, or any of her boyfriends. Just her mom, and her only once."

"Where did you hear that?" Meg asked.

"My aunt Phyllis," Sally said. "She's friends with one of the nurses there."

"That's terrible," Meg said. "That no one's come to see Lana, I mean."

"It is," Deborah said. "Doesn't surprise me any, though."

"So she's still catatonic?" Jo asked.

"I guess so," Sally said.

"Ahem," Jo said with a look at her sister, "Meg, if you're thinking about what I think you're thinking about, don't you even think about it."

"Huh?" Sally said. Theo laughed.

"Well Jo," Meg said softly, "_shouldn't _we go? We are the minister's daughters, after all."

"No, we're not," Jo said. "Brother Howard is our minister now. Let his kids do it."

"Silly," Meg laughed, "his kids are nine and ten years old. He'd never let them, even if the hospital did."

"Christopher Columbus, Meg," Jo burst out, "I don't even like the girl. Never did, still don't, and seriously doubt I ever will. I'd be a hypocrite if I went to visit her in the loony bin. What good would it do anyway? You think she'd make some miraculous recovery and clean up her act? I think that only happens in hokey movies."

"I just think we ought to go," Meg said. "I'm not sure why exactly. It just seems the right thing to do."

"Well, knock yourself out," Jo said. "You can even give her my regards, if you like. Just don't try to drag me into it."

"And don't call it the loony bin. It's the psychiatric hospital."

"You mean to tell me that you who won't hardly even go into the woods for fear of snakes, would actually go into the, er, psychiatric hospital full of whackos, just to see some girl you don't even like, who made fun of you behind your back and everything? Really? What would you get out of that?"

"I told you," Meg said, "it's...just one of those things. When I feel like something is right to do, even when I don't quite know why, I do it. And it's always turned out for the good."

"So I'm not the only one with voices in my head," Jo said. "That's a relief. No, my voices aren't crazy voices. They don't tell me to cut myself or build pipe bombs, they're just annoying mostly. I guess your voice is better, though."

"It may be God's voice," Meg said. The others were standing about looking at Jo with raised eyebrows. "I'm certain it's a voice for good in the world, so I think I should listen always."

"Well, you can play the martyr if you like," Jo said, "but, well, sorry, I'm just not that saintly. Maybe John will go with you, why don't you ask him?"

"I'll come with you, Meg," Sally said timidly. "I'll even drive us, if you want. Theo? How about you?"

"I'm with Jo," Theo said. Jo looked sharply at him. "I'll go whichever way she decides," he added.

Jo felt grateful to him. Because the truth was, the thought of walking into the psychiatric hospital was positively terrifying to her. She still couldn't believe Meg had even thought of it. Why couldn't Sally for once just keep her mouth shut?

"I have to ask again, what's the point?" Jo insisted. "I'm supposed to go to the funny farm to visit somebody I can't stand, just because I feel sorry for her? I _don't _feel sorry for her. She made her bed, now let her lie in it. Ok, ok, sorry I couldn't come up with anything more original. Blame it on the heat. But still, I just don't see the point. Count me out. I've better things to do, like clean out my spam folder, or patch the soaker hose, or..."

And there was that little smile on Meg's face.

"Coming, Jo?" she said softly.

"Yeah," Jo said.

ooooo

The hospital was far on the edge of the city limits, and they had quite a ways to go. There was some banter among the four friends along the way, but it was a bit forced. Theo said it was a bummer that Michael Mudge had dropped out of the show; he really liked Michael. They tried singing along with the radio, then some songs from the show and from _The Music Man_ and other musicals, but that didn't go so well either. Jo sat in sullen silence, thinking she would rather go to the dentist for a root canal than do this thing. And she swore she would never speak to Meg again.

The psychiatric hospital was a modern structure that bore little resemblance to the lunatic asylums Jo had seen in horror movies and tv shows, but even so, she felt no less trepidation as Sally parked her little white Kia in the lot and killed the engine.

"Well, here we are," she said. "There doesn't seem to be many people here."

"Yeah," Theo noted. Jo hoped nobody noticed the way she felt, and that people would not hear her knees knocking all the way to Connecticut.

"I guess it's not a great day for crazies," she said. "Yanno, I've heard insanity is catching. I saw a movie something like that once. I forget the title, but the guy in it checks himself into the nuthouse to do some kind of research or investigation, and ends up going off the deep end himself. It was pretty freaky. I had at least three nightmares about it. I think it was on the Sci-fi channel. An oldie, in black and white."

"I saw _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_," Theo said. "I wonder if they give electro-shock treatments and lobotomies here. Or do they just cram you full of pills and kick you out on the street? Brrrrr. Remind me never to go nuts."

"Let's go," Meg said and she opened the car door then and there and got out, in her navy-blue sundress with tiny white polka dots on it, her little yellow daisy sandals and Vera Wang knockoff shoulder bag, her long brown hair in a fairly neat pony tail, the ends fluttering in the hot summer breeze. Nothing could have looked more normal and innocent...and sane.

"Aren't you guys coming?" she said as she glanced back and noticed that no one was following.

Theo rather reluctantly opened the door of the back seat where he and Jo sat. Sally stayed put, holding the steering wheel as though trying to make the car go without turning on the ignition.

"I'm sorry, Meg," she said with her lip quivering. "I can't go in. I'll wait out here for you."

"What's wrong, Sally?" Meg said coming to the driver's side. Sally rolled down her window.

"I-I'm scared," she confessed. "I just can't do it. I'm a coward. I'm sorry, guys. But...you go. I'll wait here for you. Please?"

She winked back tears. Jo's hand paused on her seat belt buckle. Maybe she could get out of going too...

"Jo?" Meg said. "You coming? Theo?"

"Yeah," he said...reluctantly it seemed. And he got out, and Jo saw him actually come around to her side of the car to open her door for her. That did it. She was out before he got there, mentally shaking her fist at Meg.

"We won't be long, Sally," Meg said, with a sweet smile for the others.

They followed her dumbly to the front door, which she opened and walked in as calmly as if it were the mall entrance.

Jo didn't even notice Theo taking her hand in both of his until he told her in an undertone that her hand felt like a popsicle.

"_Che gelida manina*,_" he sang softly to her. She supposed it was Italian, but she was too discombobulated to ask what the words meant. Or to do anything at all but raise her head and look him straight in the eye, for how long she never knew.

oooooooooooooo

*_Che gelida manina_-"what an icy little hand" An aria from the opera _La Bohéme_ by Giacomo Puccini.


	27. The Triumph of the Hormone Fairy

27. The Triumph of the Hormone Fairy

_Later, the same day.._...

"I just kinda wish there was more to my part sometimes," Meg was saying as they sat back on the sofa looking at TV, neither girl taking any real notice of what was on. The little girls were at Emily's. Hannah was in the kitchen. "It would give the show more body, I think. I told you about that French version of _Les_ _Miserables_ Sally and I watched online recently? There was a part where Cosette gives Eponine her new dress, not knowing who she is, and that's why Eponine defends the Valjeans, and did you know Gavroche is her brother? I wouldn't have known it from the musical. That's why she was dressed in boy's clothes. Gavroche made her sell the dress and put on his other clothes, which were too big for him and... Jo?"

She waved her hand over Jo's eyes. Jo looked blankly at her.

"Did you say something?" she said with a vacuous grin. Meg sighed a little.

"Jo...I'm sorry I made you go with me today," she said. "I know you didn't want to, and I can't blame you, especially after what we saw in there. It'll be a while before I can get that out of my mind. But you see, I was afraid to go by myself, and I knew Sally would chicken out. Although I didn't exactly expect her to go off and just leave us there in the parking lot so that Theo had to call Jeeves to come get us. I can't wait till I can get a car of my own."

Jo smiled to herself. "Umm, Meg?" she said. "What does '_che gelida manina_' mean? Do you know?"

"It means 'what an icy little hand'," Meg said. "It's-"

"Wow, that sounds kind of creepy," Jo sighed. "I was hoping it meant something more romantic. That crazy Theo. Well, I might have known..."

"It _is_ romantic," Meg said. "It's about as romantic as it gets. It's an aria from the opera _La Boheme_. Where did you hear it?"

"Theo sang it to me today," Jo said, her heart cutting a sudden little caper, "as we were going in. He took my hand and sang it. So it's from an opera? I might have known."

"Did he really?" Meg said, and she reached over and took Jo's hand in her own, her eyes twinkling. "Jo, are you falling for him? You are, aren't you?"

Jo could only look at her sister with the same sappy grin, and press her hand.

"Do you think he's falling for _me_?" she asked. "I mean..."

"Can't you tell?" Meg said with lifted eyebrows.

"Not exactly," Jo said. "I mean, I think maybe...but then again, what if he isn't? What if he only thinks of me as his friend, like Marius, and he's got his sights set on somebody else? The girls on the set flirt with him up a storm, as I'm sure you've noticed, and he does flirt back sometimes. I'm scared to find out. Scared to look him in the eye, even. But...hey, you won't let this get around, will you? You won't say anything to anybody, not even Sally? Especially not Sally- supposing that you're still speaking to her. Which of course you are, you're like that. But you won't tell her, at least until I know for sure?"

"Of course I won't. But I'm betting he does feel it, but he's not sure if you do."

"I don't want to let him know until I'm sure. But then, how will I know until he lets me know? Geez, this sounds like some dumb song, doesn't it. But I'm dead serious."

"Don't try, Jo. Just let things take their course. It will come to you in time if you just let it, and don't force it. Just like a flower opens, but it has to open on its own time. You can't force it."

"I'll try to remember that," Jo said. "But you know what, Meg, it scares the bejesus out of me. What if it turns out he doesn't? I don't know if I can face life then. It's like Hannah says, Cupid's arrows are ill aimed. Sometimes."

"You'll get through it somehow, Jo. It happens all the time...unfortunately. I mean, it's unfortunate that it doesn't always work the way we want it to. That...well, you know what I mean."

"Part of me wishes I could put things back the way they were. The other part wouldn't go back for all the tea in China."

"I know exactly what you mean. I don't know why they call it 'falling in love', it feels more like rising to me."

"But _you_ know for sure, lucky you. What _did _you do right, Meg?"

"I have no idea, Jo. I don't know if it's anything I did or not. Maybe John and I were just destined to be together, we were soulmates before we even knew it. Or it was the chemistry, or..."

"So much for Broadway, huh? Or would he not stand in the way of your career? Would he be content to be some nobody schoolteacher while you went the Great White Way and got all famous? Or are you going to be happy to be his little wifey and have his babies and so on and so forth?"

"I don't know at this point, Jo. I'm not sure I even want to be on Broadway any more. The thought of it is slightly terrifying now that it's getting so much closer, and I'm in the Arts Council musical with a major role. Maybe I should just stay home and be in Arts Council musicals and stuff. Maybe that would be good enough for me."

Jo started to say that was just what Theo had said, but then Meg would know she had discussed the matter with him, and she stopped herself.

"I don't know if Theo would like me writing and all," Jo said, absently tracing a shape on her knee with a fingertip. "He..."

"Why, he's very enthusiastic about your writing, Jo. Isn't he?"

"Yeah, but would he still be if we were, you know, like, married or something? Maybe then he'd find it kind of threatening?"

"I don't see why he would. Why would it be threatening?"

"Well, it just seems guys are funny about that kind of stuff, the whole competing with their wives thing. Kind of like in _Funny Girl_, where Fannie Brice's cutie-pie husband gets all overwhelmed by her fame and so he asks for a divorce, or in _A Star is Born_, where...well, you know what happened. And let's not forget _Annie Get Your Gun_. You know, the one that would be me if I could sing worth a crap, except I probably wouldn't let the guy win just so I could keep him. I never thought he was all that and a bag of Doritos, myself. I'm not so sure now, though. That I wouldn't let him win, that is. If he was Theo, and not ol' dumbass Frank whatsisname."

"I see what you mean. Well..."

"Yeah."

"But Theo doesn't write, does he? He's a jazz piano player, and a darn good one. You don't compete with him in that area."

"Damn tootin' I don't. I can play 'Chopsticks' and 'I Dropped My Dolly in the Dirt,' and that's it. Theo could take those and totally make them sound like the hottest of all possible hot shit. But I wouldn't feel threatened. I'd probably just jump him in front of God and everybody, like Lois Spencer."

Both girls stared at each other for a moment, then burst into fits of shreiky laughter for no particular reason.

Later they got up and went for a walk in the dusk, just to talk without anyone coming in on them. Jo found she could do silly things without Meg objecting and worrying about what people would think. She could climb up on a stone wall and walk on it, singing, and jump for a low branch and swing on it, and Meg just laughed, and at one point even tried it herself. It was a sultry evening, but neither of them noticed, and they ended up in the children's playground at the park, and played on the seesaw and slide and swings and even the monkey bars. There was no one else about, so they sang and giggled and danced about in the grass, catching fireflies and letting them go, then finally they lay down side by side and looked up at the stars.

"If anybody could see us now, they'd think we were high," Jo remarked, with a loud sip of the Mountain Dew she had bought at a convenience store along the way.

"Well," Meg said with a little hiccup, "I guess we are, at that."

"It's like being kids again, only better," Jo said waving both feet high in the air as she supported her hips with both hands. "Hey, I got a great idea. Let's get naked and go skinny dipping in the river. Want to?"

"Ummm...I don't think so," Meg said giggling. "That wouldn't be such a good idea...wouldn't it?"

"You thought about it though, didn't you?" Jo said letting down her legs and rolling over on her stomach. "Admit it. You thought about it, Meg March, you brazen hussy you."

"Maybe for a nanosecond," Meg said, taking a drink of her Dr. Pepper.

"Nah, more than that."

"Ok, maybe two nanoseconds."

"Nano nano."

"You're crazy, Jo."

"I bet it was three nanoseconds."

"No, just two."

"Two and a half. I must say, I'm shocked."

Meg pulled up a handful of clover and threw it at Jo, laughing hysterically.

When they got home, Beth and Amy were there, and Jo came down a little from her cloud, as she noticed how tired Beth looked, but she said little, and soon she slipped out of the living room into the schoolroom and turned on Dave. She contemplated contacting Theo, thinking he was probably online now, but could not think of what to say to him. Something silly, so he'd get into a conversation with her? But then he might think she was not interested in him except as a friend. She went to Youtube and tried to find something about the opera Meg had spoken of, but she couldn't remember the title. Perhaps she could ask Theo...but might he think she was a little too interested, and back off? Drat. She so did not know how this love stuff worked. Even though she ought to, considering all the books she had read and movies she had watched. Evidently it was kind of like motherhood-until you'd been through it yourself, Hannah said, you knew diddly-squat about it, no matter how many parenting manuals you read and reality shows you watched.

_Jo and Theo sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G_. _How does it feel to be the loser, my little pretty?_

_Oh damn, it's you again. Don't you have some incisors to collect?_

_Oooo, flying high, aren't we. Let's just hope we don't go ker-splat in the morning and wake up with one hellacious hangover._

_I'll take my chances, thank you very much for your concern. Now kindly go take a flying fajita at a rolling dingleberry, I'm busy._

_And what if he doesn't reciprocate? What then, my precioussss?_

_Well, hopefully I'll either die or slip into a catatonic state, like Lana._

_See there, now. Didn't I tell you she was you?_

_You said in a couple of years she would be._

_So I was a little off. And if you die or end up in a catatonic state, what then? What will that do to your beloved family members? Especially with Beth the way she is?_

_Hey you, for the last time, piss off, ok? I don't have time for this crap. Go buzz around Meg's ear for a change, champ._

That night she dreamed she was dancing high on a cloud with Theo, Meg, John, Beth, and Frank Vaughn, all dressed in exquisite designer gowns and tuxes, with a golden castle in the background and innumerable flowers and butterflies all about, the loveliest possible music playing. And then as she danced precipitously near the edge, she happened to glance down and see several faces below, looking dolefully up at her. There was Michael Mudge, and Sally Gardiner, Darcy Evans, Lana Babcock, Amy, Kate, Nikki Landon in her Eponine costume, cousin Flo, Aunt Patty, Mr. Laurence, and many, many others, all in rags, all stretching forth beseeching hands, begging to be boosted up onto the blissful cloud. The sadness in their faces smote Jo to the heart, and she tried to reach down to them, but never could quite grasp any. And from above, a voice told her that if she leaned down too far, they would pull her down to their level and she would never be able to get back up on the cloud again...

And she woke with tears in her eyes. It was not quite daylight. The world was a dark and gloomy place, indeed. How would she ever find her way through it?

But an hour later she could smell bacon frying, and the unmistakable aroma of blueberry waffles and coffee.

ooooo

There was no rehearsal for Jo that day, so she found herself stuck at home. Meg had gone to rehearse and put the finishing touches on her costumes. Amy was happy as a chameleon on a patchwork quilt with the new oil paints and wide brush Jo had bought her, and Beth with her new set of Laura Ingalls Wilder books. She would be wanting Jo to read one to her sooner or later, even though it wasn't reading day-that was Saturday; this was only Thursday. Maybe Jo should just go march right on over to Theo's, as usual, and propose a pull on the river, or a sparring match in his gymnasium, a hike over The Hill...but maybe he would come here. What if he did? What would she say to him? She had better come up with something good...

And so after breakfast and chores, Jo sauntered over to the schoolroom, sat down at Dave, and planned out what she should say to Theo if and when he came over. She went over and over in her mind, composing an impeccably witty and ingenious speech, congratulating herself on her cleverness, then discarding it a moment later and starting all over again. When nature called, she paused to take a look at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. Hmm, maybe she _had_ packed on a few pounds over the summer. Or as Amy had elegantly phrased it, she was finally picking up some boobage. Perhaps she should ask Meg to take her shopping so she could buy a new bra or two. Something sexy with lace maybe, and a tiny bit of padding. How much did collagen lip implants cost? She was sure her own lips were much too thin. Small wonder Theo had never tried to kiss her...or was it the way she smelled? Perhaps a bit of cologne... And this aggedy-rassed sleeveless plaid shirt and baggy shorts. They didn't exactly have "Major Sexpot" written all over them. Maybe the rest of her prize money would be best invested in some new clothes...

At least her hair was almost touching her shoulders now. Not bad.

So occupied with these pleasing thoughts was she that she didn't even hear the doorbell ring, and when she finally went back to the schoolroom, she found Theo sitting in the computer chair.

"Hey Jojo, whatcha doing?" he said as she nearly jumped out of her skin, nodding at the Weight Watchers ad on the screen, which she had not even noticed was there. Fortunately he had not seen the Notepad on which she had typed the latest version of her speech, it being minimized into the toolbar. And she could not recall one word that was in it. "You're not going on a diet, are you?"

And all Jo could do was smile right in his face. But as he slowly stood up, his eyes told her plainly that there was no need for her to slip into a catatonic state anytime soon.

"Well...I _am_ getting a bit of a muffin top," she finally said with a little shrug. "Don't you think?"

And then there was total silence as they stood gazing into each other's eyes. She actually heard violins, although she knew they were probably coming from the soap opera playing on the small TV set Hannah had going in the kitchen.

And then... "Guess what," he said finally.

"What?" was all she could come up with, in a ludicrously tiny, breathy, girly voice.

"Granddad got me into a military academy," he said. "Seems somebody owed him a favor. I start this September."


	28. Castle on a Cloud

28. Castle on a Cloud

Jo and Theo had gone for walks many times, but this time they held hands. Some people looked disapproving at them, and Jo just smiled and waved to them. Other people smiled, and Jo smiled back. So did Theo. When they came to a hopscotch board some little girl had drawn and abandoned, Jo hopped on it until she came to the smudgy chalk enclosure at the end marked "Heaven" and just stood there with a big sappy grin on her face.

"But what did you _do_?" she asked. "You've been so good all year. A boy scout, just like Fred said. Well, there _was_ that time we stole those pinwheels from the Dollar General and stick them in Mr. Throgmorton's lawn, after watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's._ You don't suppose your granddad found out about that? And that time we stayed after the movie and sneaked into another theater at the Cineplex, or when we put the ping-pong ball in that mean old Mr. Brennan's gas tank after he shot Mrs. Vandemeer's poor old dog with his air rifle. But on the whole, I mean you've been doing yard work for her for next to nothing, you'd do it for free if she didn't absolutely insist on paying you something. And-"

"It isn't a punishment, he says," Theo explained. "He's been trying to get me into a school since I first arrived. Brooke was teaching me so I wouldn't fall behind. Well, now he's succeeded. Just when we were... Did you have feelings for me all this time, Jo?"

"I think I have for some time," she admitted, ducking her head and blushing. Dang, she had always rolled her eyes when girls did that in books, and here she was doing it now. Dang. "But I was afraid _you_ didn't have them and you thought of me as just a friend, or the sister you never had. That someone else would come and take you from me. After all, I'm skinny, I'm not pretty, I'm not girly, I'm kind of, well, eccentric, and..."

"Damn right you're not pretty," Theo said and stopped where he was. "You're beautiful. You're the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on."

And he kissed her, for the first time. And all the things Jo had rolled her eyes over in books and songs happened to her then. Time stood still, and a symphony began to play, and flowers burst into ecstatic bloom, and every fairy tale came true, and so on and so forth. They barely noticed they were on a fairly busy street, that a couple of boys wolf-whistled as they drove by in a rattly old car, a man was weed-whacking his yard, a dog was scratching itself on a tree trunk, a woman was on her knees before her flower bed, her very ample rear end facing the sidewalk.

"Get a room, you guys," a young man teased them as he came up behind them. Jo and Theo laughed.

"What about you?" she asked as they resumed their walk. "When did you start having...feelings...for me? Dang, I used to hate that expression. 'Having feelings' for somebody. Whatever happened to 'being in love'? Guess now it's being 'in a relationship.' Another expression I hate. Well, back to my original question, what about you?"

"I think I've been in love with you from the get-go," he said laughing. She couldn't get over his eyes, so dark and lustrous especially with the laughter dancing in them. "I thought you were the coolest, funniest, nicest girl I ever knew, and you brought out the best in me and I was perfectly happy just to be with you. Although it was a while before I realized how I felt, myself. I think I've been afraid you wouldn't feel it either. You're, well, so much your own person, and you once said you scorned romance. And how you wouldn't marry for money and all that. I thought maybe you'd go off and fall for some penniless old geezer twice your age and I'd be left feeling like some snotty-nosed kid with my clothes on backwards, that couldn't measure up to your standards. I didn't know what would become of me, maybe I'd just forget about being a boy scout and try to drown my sorrows in booze and meth and stuff. I-"

"I still wouldn't," she said. "Marry for money, I mean. Although now I guess people are going to say I'm just another fortune hunter after all. I kinda wish you were poor, so I wouldn't have to be bothered with all that crap. I hate money, if you really must know. Yeah, I just know everybody is totally gonna believe that. Why are people so shallow?" She laughed a little. "I guess we should make the most of the time we have left, shouldn't we?"

Another dumb movie line, but Theo just nodded and kissed her again, drawing her into a more secluded thicket this time. And it was one of those rare instances in which the sequel is even better than the original.

ooooo

"Jo, I have a confession to make," Amy said a few days later, just after breakfast. "Please don't be mad at me? I never burned your notebook. I thought I put it in my wastebasket, but I just looked in my top drawer and it was still there, buried deep under all my stuff. It's on your bed now."

Jo went to her bedroom, but saw no notebook. She lifted the coverlet, the pillow, the mattress even. It wasn't there.

"Made ya look," Amy said, then tore out the door laughing like a witch.

"That wasn't funny, young lady!" Hannah called to her. "Come back here right now!"

"What's with her?" Jo fumed, going to the door to see where Amy was going, but could see her nowhere.

"Jealous of you and Theo, no doubt," Hannah said. "You do know she's had a crush on him since day one?"

"Yeah," Jo said with a sigh. "Well heck, let her go. I've got the prize, after all."

Much later that same day, Jo found Beth in tears, in the schoolroom sitting at the computer.

"Frank met a girl," she said grabbing another Kleenex. "He's been telling me all about her. I should have known that would happen."

"You mean he's just been stringing you along, all this time?" cried Jo. "Move over. I'll tell him what for. Better yet, I'm hightailing it to Bar Harbor. He'll be sorry he ever saw the light of day. I'll make Moby Dick look like a guppy. I'll-"

"No, Jo!" Beth said blocking her way. "He never told me he had feelings for me, or anything like that. He never pretended to be anything but my friend. I thought I told you that. It's just...someday I hoped he would come to feel like I do. I should have known it was hopeless. I'm too far away, I'm too young for him, I'm not beautiful, I don't even have hair. I'm sick and I might die..."

"Don't even _think_ 'die', Bethy," Jo said putting an arm around her. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. Literally. Forget about him, ok? You'll find somebody else, or maybe something horrible will happen to that new girlfriend of his, or she'll dump him and he'll come to see that you were the one for him all along, or...something. She's probably just some gold digger looking for easy money, or something, and someday he'll see that..."

Jo mentally used every swearword she knew. As if having leukemia weren't bad enough, now Beth had a broken heart on top of it. Would the combination prove fatal? If Frank had to go and get himself a girl, why couldn't he at least have kept it to himself?

This massively sucked. All the more so since there really wasn't a thing Jo could do to make Beth feel better. She could write Frank a nasty letter, but that would only relieve her own feelings, and only for a minute or two. She seriously doubted Beth would care to have Jo read to her now, or anything else. Would she ever be happy again?

Jo felt guilty being so happy with Theo now. How could she keep dancing on her cloud now that Beth was one of those down below, looking up? There would always be someone looking up. What right had she being a dancer, when Beth was consigned to be a mere watcher?

"Jo," Beth said after a while of leaning her head against her sister's shoulder, "please don't say anything to Theo about it. Or anybody else. I don't want anybody getting hold of Frank and saying all kinds of...things...to him. It's not his fault, it's mine for being stupid. I totally feel stupid now."

"He should have known you'd feel this way," Jo said. "He's not a kid after all, he's sixteen years old. I've a good mind to march right over there and check his prostate with a football shoe. He-"

"Jo, promise me you won't do anything," Beth pleaded. "I'll only feel worse if you...do something. Just let it go, ok? I'll be all right. It's not like I never thought it could happen, or anything. I mean, he's very cute and has lots of money and a good personality, and even if he does have a bad leg, he still gets around pretty good. Of course he would have gotten a girlfriend sooner or later. I knew that. But I was hoping. Really hoping."

"So much for going up to Bar Harbor," Jo said to Meg that evening, after rehearsal. Beth had said it was ok to tell Meg, she'd know sooner or later anyway. "Theo was going to take us after the show was over, if Mom would let us. Guess we're stuck here. Why does life have to be so damn complicated?"

"I know how you feel, Jo," Meg said, without even making the "language" gesture. "I just hope and pray she gets over him quickly. But I know she won't. I know well enough how these things go. So what now? You don't think this will...make her worse, do you?"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Jo said, her throat tightening. "And I haven't the slightest idea what to do about it... Wait, I have an idea."

"Uh oh...what idea?"

"Let's write Frank and ask him to pretend the girl dumped him. No, don't look at me like that. I wouldn't ask him to pretend to have feelings for Bethy or anything like that. Just to _not _have feelings for that...girl. Then maybe Beth would have hope again. And she could get well, and...well, it's a thought, anyway."

"But didn't you promise not to say anything to him?"

"Well, not really. She just asked me to promise. I didn't quite do it."

"I think it would be better for us not to interfere, Jo. I think your idea would only be staving off the inevitable, and she probably wouldn't believe it anyway. She's not stupid."

"So what _do _we do?"

"We'll just have to be there for her. Let her talk out her feelings, cry on our shoulders, all that. If we just let her know she has us to lean on, I think she'll get over this. I really do."

"I might have known you'd say something like that. And the worst part of it is, I think you're right. Damn, don'tcha hate when that happens?"

"She _is_ very young, Jo. She'll get over it."

"So was Juliet. She didn't."

"That was fiction. And there's Amy too. She really had her hopes set on Theo. Two broken hearts in the same family."

"Well, that's a whole 'nother matter. Amy is...Amy. Funny how those two can be sisters and be so totally different."

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah. So what's John going to do now that he'll be out of a pupil?"

"Well, he wants to go back to college for his Master's degree. But there's the problem of his mother. She's dying, you know."

"Is he going to get another job? Any prospects?"

"Well, he's staying at the Laurence home. Mr. Laurence told him he'd always have a place there. Guess he's sort of adopted him. And his mother has been moved to the hospice center. The doctors give her about two months."

"Damn, that's awful...for him. I can't imagine it." Jo sat down hard on her bed. Since falling in love, it was as if she had gotten a new pair of glasses that enabled her to see things much more sharply and clearly. She felt other people's pain more keenly, as well. That was the downside, and she didn't half like it. Why couldn't she just have the joy, the ecstasy, the luminous cloud and the castle, without having to look down and see all the sad faces below?

ooooo

Beth was feeling so badly, she had to drop out of the show too. She didn't really have a part anyway, she was only in one scene and it was just a part of the crowd. So Jo and Meg and Amy and Theo had to go to dress rehearsal without her. It didn't go very well. Someone remarked that if the dress rehearsal sucked, it meant the show would be a smash. Small comfort.

When the sisters returned home, they found Hannah looking pale and red-eyed.

"Beth had to be taken to the hospital," she said. "But she says for you girls to go ahead and be in the show. Mr. Luckett's father is going to tape it all for her."

The next morning, Mrs. March called.

"Dr. Bangs said the chemo isn't working," she said. "She's going to have to have a bone-marrow transplant."


	29. Vigil

29. Vigil

Amy had fallen asleep in the back seat of the van with her head on Hannah's shoulder. Theo and John sat in the middle seat, quietly, while Meg and Jo sat in the one in front of them. Jo had that eerie feeling she was reliving something she had been through before, just a few months ago actually, but it felt much longer. Deja vu, she supposed it was called. She had never really believed in it before. But she was feeling it now, with a vengeance.

The first three performances had gone very well. There was one more left, but Meg would not be in it. Tiffany Anderson, her understudy, would be playing her part instead.

"But Beth said she didn't want you to miss any performances," Amy had pointed out. "She said we must all do what we'd be doing if she wasn't having this operation. That's what she said."

"Tiffany badly wanted that part, I know she did," Meg said. "Why not give her a chance to play it?"

"She's not right for Cosette," Sally insisted. "She's too...tan, or something. Girls didn't get tan back in those days...did they? And then she's got that butterfly tattoo on her left breast. It'll probably show."

"If she plays the part well enough, no one will care about her tan or her tattoo," Meg said. "I like Tiffany, and I'd like to give her a chance to shine. I want to be by my sister's side when she has that operation. She..."

"Might not come out of it," Jo said very softly, speaking the words Meg dared not. "Yeah, I know the surgery will take forever. But we need to be close by for her. The Revolution will just have to go on without Ratatouille."

Ms. Foster had had all the chorus members invent characters for themselves, and write a little bio for that character. That way, she explained, they wouldn't be just faces in a crowd, but actual people with real personalities. Jo had perked up considerably, for such was right down her alley. She had dubbed her character Pierrot de Ratatouille, a former cabin boy for a pirate crew, who had escaped his bondage and fled to the streets of Paris, seeking adventure on dry land. He was a cocky and volatile youth of about eighteen, and the director had all she could do to keep feisty young Pierrot from pulling his dagger on other cast members. (Fortunately the dagger was made of rubber.) The bio came to about two pages, although Ms. Foster had told everyone to keep it to one paragraph. Jo's female character, the factory worker in Act I, was actually Pierrot's mother, which accounted for the resemblance. She was "nine kinds of beotch" as Jo described her, who practiced some witchcraft and was eventually burned at the stake, and her ghost persisted in nagging her son to avenge her death.

Beth had begged Jo to invent a character for her, since she wasn't good at that sort of thing, she said-at least, not nearly as good as Jo. So Jo created little Lily-Rose de Rochefort, a mute village lass whose mother was a gypsy and had to dance for what little money she could get to feed her starving family. Amy was her friend Gigi, an urchin with sticky fingers, who liked to dance also, and embraced mischief as a sister. Beth had made a piano piece, in the manner of a merry French peasant dance, in order to get into the spirit, although it was Amy who did the dancing, but then Pierrot would get in on it too. There was talk of working the dance into the show somehow, but the idea did not go through.

As Jo sank back into her seat in the van, she sighed and told herself that she would have to face up to the fact that there was at least a fifty-percent chance that Beth would not survive the operation. She found herself playing a mental home movie about her sister, looking back as far as she could remember. Beth just learning to walk, with Jo and Meg helping her along, each taking a hand, their mom watching, pregnant with Amy, looking perfectly happy and beautiful in her bright blue maternity dress, their dad with his video camera getting it all on film, Meg with her sweet little voice encouraging the babe along, Jo with her usual capers, hopping on one foot, then the other, then heavily down on both feet, to make the little one laugh so she would forget to be afraid. Would Beth have learned to walk without her sisters? And how would those sisters walk without her now, with only a space between them that had Beth's shape and size, but lacked Beth's sound, flavor, light, fragrance, warmth, her small strength, her depth and diffident allure, her necessary freshness, her softly watching eyes and patient voice?

And when Ms. Foster had the players read their little bios aloud, just before the first performance, Jo somehow could not bring herself to read her paragraph on Pierrot's mother as written. She made a new one on the spot, and the personality that emerged was that of Beth as she might be twenty years hence. How she would manage to play her sister in such a scene, she did not know, but somehow she would. It was the least she could do, she supposed.

ooooo

John and Theo had to go back for the performance, since as Amy and Jo both pointed out, the understudy for Marius was "impossible." He would ruin the whole show, they said. And Theo was playing Grantaire now, the actor originally slated having suffered a compound fracture in his tibia...or as Theo put it, he had taken the injunction "break a leg" far too literally. So that left the girls, their mother, and Hannah. And Mr. Laurence. Although he had been in Jo's bad books for some time, she had to appreciate his supportiveness, plus the fact that it was he who was responsible for Beth being in this particular hospital undergoing this surgery. She would have to bring herself to forgive him, and she found that it was not as hard as she had imagined. He sat quietly talking to Hannah and Mrs. March now, while Amy poked about looking at the paintings, noting they were different from the ones she remembered, and after a while Jo and Meg got up and did likewise. The TV was showing Spongebob Squarepants, but the sound was so soft, Jo couldn't hear it. Some little kid was watching it, his eyes big and wide, his mouth partly open.

"Jo, look at this," Meg said. She was standing before a photograph of a young man that hung alongside of several other photos. The plate under the photo read "Paul Stoltzer" along with the years of his birth and death. _A former patient and generous donor, who bequeathed nearly his entire fortune to the Cancer Unit of Massachusetts General Hospital upon his untimely death, _read the card below the placard.

Jo lifted her eyebrows. Paul Stoltzer? Where had she heard that name before?

"Diana's lover," Meg whispered. Jo nodded. "I'd forgotten he was a patient here."

"Remind you of anybody?" Jo said. Meg studied the portrait more closely.

"He's a little like John," she said smiling a little. "Not so much in looks as in his... expression. His whole demeanor. There's a striking similarity...although his eyes are blue and not brown."

"Yeah," Jo said. "They're definitely blue."

"I envy you, Jo," Meg said lowering her voice a little, with a glance down the room at her mother and Hannah. "You and Theo don't have to hide like John and I do. I mean, you can go around holding hands, be seen in public together, and all that. If John and I were to do that, people would think it was creepy, what with him being an adult and me still in high school. And to think that a hundred years ago, nobody would have thought anything of it. It's hardly fair, when he's only five years older than me after all. When I'm twenty-one and he's twenty-six, our age difference will seem perfectly normal. But right now, I could spoil his whole reputation, keep him from getting a job and everything, if it was to get out that he's in love with a girl who's only seventeen."

"It _is_ pretty much out now," Jo said, "thanks to a certain La Babcock and her cronies. Or should I say crones."

"Oh, like anybody takes _her_ seriously," Meg said. "You don't think they do, do you?"

"I doubt it," Jo said although she was not so sure, herself.

"It's just stupid," Meg sighed. "He's never even made a move on me. We've kissed a few times, that's all. Why must people be so _petty_? I wish they'd look at the _real _John, and keep their minds out of the gutter. I don't care so much for myself, but it could ruin _him_. I can't stand the thought of it. I would lay down my very life to protect him."

Jo glanced down at her hands, hoping it wouldn't get back to Meg that she too had once thought it a bit creepy, and had not exactly kept her opinion to herself.

"Well," she hedged, taking refuge in a cliché, "you know what they say about the course of True Love and all. Win a few, lose a few. Or whatever."

Well, that was brilliant, she thought. Meg looked sharply at her.

"You agree with them, don't you?" she said. "You think it's creepy too. Oh, Jo. I thought you of all people would understand."

"Why, I..." Jo looked all around, a trifle bewildered. "I don't think..."

"I thought since you and Theo are to be separated for a while, you'd see how it was with us," Meg said. "But you _don't, _do you? You're on _their_ side. Well, excuse me for thinking otherwise."

And she flounced off and went to stand by the window, her back to Jo, who stood there, feeling helpless and slightly ridiculous. She could not think of one thing to say or do.

"Shit," she finally swore softly. And looked toward her mother as if for advice. But her mother was just looking at her with uplifted eyebrows. Jo turned and went to sit by her.

"What's wrong with Meg?" Mrs. March said. Jo could hardly help but notice how much older her mother was looking.

"Oh, she's mad about something," Jo said, wondering how much she should tell without betraying her sister's confidence. "Guess I put my foot in it, as usual. Although this time I can't think how. Guess I just forgot to keep a poker face, or something."

"She'll get over it quickly, I'm sure," Mrs. March said with a caress of Jo's cheek. "That's how she is."

"I guess you're right," Jo said closing her eyes. "She's the forgiving type. Wish I was."

"Are you tired, honey?" her mother asked her. "You look it."

"Not really," Jo said. "But I'm getting kinda hungry."

"We can go down to the cafeteria if you like," Mrs. March said.

"I'm not _that_ hungry," Jo said yawning. Just then a big-shouldered, straw-haired young man entered the waiting room, a bit cautiously as if fearing to disturb someone, holding a hamper in one hand.

"How is she, Aunt Margie?" he asked Mrs. March as she stood up to embrace him. Jo could smell fried chicken.

"Still in surgery," Mrs. March said. "It's so nice of you to come, Holden. You get handsomer every time I see you."

"I brought some grub," Holden said as he embraced Jo and Amy, then Meg as she came to meet him. "I figured you guys might be sittin' on empty, so I paid the Colonel a little visit."

"You must have heard my stomach growling," Jo said with a little grin as Holden lifted a bucket of chicken legs, thighs, breasts, and wings from the hamper. He had brought a jug of cold tea as well. Jo gave her cousin a little sock on the arm. "Hey, it's still warm. Good deal."

"Mom and Neville are coming," Holden said as he helped spread out the feast on a small low table. He had brought plates and utensils, even. Along with the chicken there were biscuits and mashed potatoes and gravy. "Mom'll probably bring a cake."

Meg sat down beside Jo.

"I'm sorry, Jo," she said in an undertone. "I'm so worried and worked up, I'm snapping everybody's head off. I don't mean to."

"Maybe you could get a job at KFC," Jo suggested with a grin. "Here, have a drumstick?"

"I'll take a breast," Meg said with a little relieved smile. "You know what? I saw Diana's portrait up there too. She left all the money Paul left her to the hospital too. Only, her picture isn't next to his. I think it should be, don't you?"

"Mnkxgrbtlx," Jo said through a huge bite of her drumstick.

"Maybe we could ask them to move it?" Meg suggested.

"Have at it," Jo said after swallowing.

As Meg went to speak to the nurse at the nearest station, Aunt Patty and Neville walked in, Aunt Patty carrying a covered dish.

"Having a party, huh?" Neville said. "No fair starting without me."

"There's plenty," Holden said indicating the bucket. "Help yourself, bro. There's livers too."

"How long has Beth been in surgery?" Aunt Patty asked her sister.

"About four hours," Mrs. March said.

"What kind of cake is that?" Amy asked her aunt.

"Mandarin orange," Aunt Patty said.

"My favorite," Hannah said. "It's a big one. Goody."

There were a couple of little kids nearby, squabbling over a toy while their exhausted-looking mother kept trying to shush them, and Aunt Patty offered them all pieces of cake, which quieted the children considerably, at least for the time being. Holden went off with his cell phone to call his girlfriend. While all this went down, Jo sauntered over to the photos again, and looked at the one of Diana for a long moment. Then, with brazen audacity, she took it over to the one of Paul Stoltzer, took down the one hanging next to his, and put up Diana's in its place, then hung the other where Diana's had been.

_There, that's better, _she thought. _Now the lovers are reunited. For all time. Wow, am I getting sappy or what?_

She stood looking at the pictures for a long time without really seeing them, taking stock. _This had been a year like no other,_ she thought. _I'm not the same Jo I was last year, by a long shot. What was I doing last year at this time? Can't even remember. Seems Meg and Sally and Wendy and I were all watching some forgettable chick flick and pigging out on kettle corn and talking about what we would do after we graduated high school. Even though Wendy and I were barely even IN high school. Then Wendy's dad goes and gets this new job over in Michigan and she moves away and Theo moves in. And the rest as they say is history. To think that in a day or two, I may never again be the same Jo I am right now. Like that old song goes, this'll be the day that I die...maybe. Maybe not. Gotta have hope. Just gotta have hope. Where are you, little lady? Get your dainty little ass and rainbow wings out here prontissimo, if you don't mind. I could use a bit of your pixie dust right now. As much as you can spare._

The afternoon was interminable. Neville chattered away about video games and Dr. Who and what not, until Jo was ready to take one of the paintings and ram it down over his head. Finally she remembered that Theo had left her his laptop, and she retrieved it from the stack of belongings thinking if she didn't get hold of Theo soon she was going to pop like an ear of corn.

_Hey Jojo. How is she?_

_Still in surgery. Don't think I can take much more of this waiting. It'll be the death of me, I know._

_Hang in there dudette._

_I'm hanging, I'm hanging._

_Guess what? The cast is going to hold a candlelight vigil for Beth tonight._

_Really?_

_Yep. Right after the show. In the town square. If you got tv over there, you'll see it on the news, I bet._

_And whose idea was that, I wonder?_

_I don't know. Probably Mr. Wexler's. I didn't ask._

_Not yours?_

_No, baby. Sorry._

_A candlelight vigil. I wish Beth would be awake so she could see it._

_Want me to come over there after the show?_

_No, Theo. It'll be too late in the night. Wait till the morning. Light a candle and say a prayer for us._

_Think she'll be out of surgery by then?_

_I don't know, Theo. I just don't know. I can't lose Beth, Theo. I absolutely can't lose Beth.  
_

_I'll be there. And tonight I'll burn candles and sing my fanny off._

_Thanks Theo. You know I love you, don't you._

_Love you too babe._

She felt a little better after she went back to the waiting room. Amy was watching TV. Aunt Patty and Holden had cleared up the remains of their feast, and were still there. Meg was nowhere in sight.

"She went to the chapel," Neville explained. "So did your mom and Hannah and Mr. Laurence. Presumably to pray, or so I would deign to suppose."

"Oh," Jo said. She sat down with the computer on her lap. Just five o'clock. It felt like she had been here a week.

"I sure wish dad was here," she said after a while.

"I know you do," Aunt Patty said. She looked tired and sad also. She didn't look like their mom. Her hair was darker, her face rounder, and she wore glasses. She was the librarian at Neville's school, and she also taught a library science class. Jo had often enjoyed discussing "the classics" with her. She was quite smart. She'd been "the smart one" while her sister had been "the pretty one," she had once told her nieces. Guess some things didn't change much, thought Jo. Her husband had left her for a pretty blonde. Holden and Neville never saw him, although Neville made occasional attempts at discovering his whereabouts. Just out of morbid curiosity, he insisted.

"Anybody bring any candles?" Jo said at last. Holden said he'd go buy some. Aunt Patty said there were probably some in the chapel.

"I think I'll go in there for a while," she said. "Anybody want to come with me?"

She looked at her sons, then at Jo, then Amy.

"I'll come," Holden said. Amy slowly got up from the chair before the television set.

"I'll pass," Neville said, a little uncertainly, it seemed. Jo said nothing.

"All right then," Aunt Patty said, and she and Holden went out of the room down the hall to where the chapel was, Amy following. Jo sat and looked at Neville, who didn't quite look at her.

Then finally she stood up, took the laptop and began following the others down the hall. Soon she heard Neville's footsteps behind her, but she did not look back at him.

ooooo

They watched the candlelight vigil on Aunt Patty's tv that night. Jo had to marvel at the size of the crowd. _It's dollars to donuts the whole frikken' town is there,_ she thought as she watched the hundreds, maybe thousands, of little lights flickering in the hands of the people, some of whom she recognized immediately. She tried to spot Theo, but could not see him. Old folks, young folks, little kids, all singing hymns, and Lucy Maddox climbed up onto a high platform with a microphone and sang "You'll Never Walk Alone" from _Carousel _in her warm rich mezzo, her voice cracking a little at the end, but she managed the high note all right. Everyone in Aunt Patty's room held candles as well, although they did not sing. Jo hardly even noticed when the tears spilled from her eyes and dripped on her t-shirt. At last the little winged lady had emerged from the box, drawn by the light and the prayers and the notes and the need.

Jo didn't fall asleep until nearly midnight, although she had been up since five o'clock in the morning. Early the next day, after barely swallowing breakfast, they went back to the hospital where Dr. Bangs told them Beth was sleeping now. Whether she would awaken from it or not, was in God's hands, he said. But only their mother was allowed to go in the room and sit with her. The rest were relegated to the waiting game once more. Jo tried to busy herself with checking her emails. There were dozens, she came to find, all wishing the best for Beth's recovery, offering prayers and good thoughts. Some from people she didn't even know. And one of them...

_Darcy Evans, as I live and breathe. Son of a gun._

_Hope she's ok, _was all it said. Great balloons of duck spit.

Then Theo arrived about nine o'clock, along with John Brooke, who had driven him over. Jo had all she could do not to do a Lois Spencer and throw herself all over Theo in front of God and everybody, and polka with him all over the hospital.

"She's awake," she almost shouted, and the sun came up everywhere, as though the spirits of every candle in the town square the previous night had come to join in its incendiary splendor.


	30. Polished Gems

30. Polished Gems

"I think my hair is coming in curly," Beth said as she looked into her bedroom mirror trying to tie a ribbon around her head. She was sharing the room once more with Amy, and the well-worn Hello Kitty bedspread had been replaced by a quilted daffodil-yellow one with lacy ruffles all around, and matching curtains, a homecoming gift from the Laurences. "One of my nurses said that happens sometimes, when you're in remission and your hair starts growing back in. But I'd be just as happy to have it straight like it was before. Like yours, Jo. Wow, yours is down to your shoulders now. I'm glad it's growing out, because I think you have the prettiest hair in the whole world."

She smiled at Jo, then glanced at the wig which now had a place of honor on a real wigstand, crowned with a wreath of pink and yellow and blue silk flowers and ribbons. Amy had painted a mask Mardi-Gras style, complete with glitter and sequins and paste gems and dyed feathers, to put on the "face" of the stand. It didn't look very Beth, to say the least, but Beth loved it, so Jo had no complaint. There were many gifts all around the room, including a little ceramic cat playing the fiddle, a polyresin angel with a harp, a tiny eyeless wooden man with a bass viol, a cornhusk mariachi strumming a guitar, a glass bunny with a banjo, and many other musical knickknacks, all clustered on top of her bureau. Beth's Band, she called it. Frank had brought her a gorgeous little alabaster trinket box worked in gold, shaped like a baby grand piano, and their mother could not bring herself to disallow the gift when she saw how Beth looked at it. She shared it with Amy, since Amy's was old and tacky and babyish now. She didn't even complain about Beth getting so many presents, when she herself got none, and so her mother bought her a lovely white sweater she had been hankering after.

"You've got more flesh and color now," Jo said, looking at her sister in the light of the autumn morning. "It's got me resigned to Theo being at military school, especially since he actually seems to be enjoying it...some of the time, at least. I still can't picture him calling the upperclassmen 'sir'. Or taking orders from them. It purely boggles my mind."

"But he does look so handsome in his uniform, don't you think?" Beth said with twinkling eyes.

"Yeah, although I can't say much for the haircut. Wish they'd at least let him grow it out another half-inch or so. That buzz cut looks ridiculous...on him. I miss those rippling raven curls."

Jo recalled the afternoon after Beth had awoken from her surgery, with everyone gathered in the waiting room chattering like a flock of happy magpies-Emily and her parents and brother, several cast members, Pastor Howard from church with his family, Sally Gardiner, and several others. Then a youth Jo remotely recognized had come softly in, a red boating cap on his head and a cluster of pink rosebuds in his hand, glancing almost fearfully around, then he spotted Theo and went to him. Jo edged up to get a look at the visitor, who removed his hat to show his bald scalp.

Frank Vaughn!

"May I go in and see her now?" he asked.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Jo asked him rudely, her hands on her hips. Theo cleared his throat.

"That didn't pan out," Frank said with his bright blue eyes a little downcast. "She turned out to be the jealous type. And she insisted on me growing my hair back, and when I told her why I couldn't do it yet, she got all pissed and called me a 'skinhead.' I don't even care now. She can just go fly a kite."

"I'll ask Beth if she wants to see you," Meg said. And she swiftly left the waiting room.

"Didn't Fred come with you?" Theo said, as Frank stood fumbling with his cap.

"No," Frank shook his head. "I had my cousin Walt fly me down. You know, the commercial pilot. I did leave a note telling where I was. I'll take a bus back, unless Walt will come get me. How is she?"

"As well as can be expected...no thanks to you," Jo said. Damn and blast, why did he have to come barging in? "How did you even know she was in surgery?"

"I told him," Theo said. "No, I didn't tell him anything else. Just that she was getting a bone marrow transplant."

Meg came forward, saying, "She says you can come in."

"Thanks, Meg," Frank said. Clutching the cap to his belly rather absurdly, he hobbled quickly into the hall, followed by Jo and Theo.

Beth lay flat, her limbs swathed in bandages and an IV tube going into one arm, but there was a smidgen of color in her cheeks as Frank hesitantly entered the room, which was literally banked with flowers. Vases full, set wherever there was room, most on the floor, and a table had been brought in to accommodate some of them.

"Hi, Beth," he said a bit sheepishly. "How are you?"

"Better, I think," she said barely above a whisper. "How about you?"

"I'm surprised I'm still in one piece," he said with a short laugh. "I got here as soon as I heard you had an operation. I didn't know if you'd want to see me...but I just had to see you. Me and that girl...I don't know what I even saw in her. I'm sorry if...well, if you were..."

"Jo," Beth said lifting huge hollow eyes to her sister, "you didn't...?"

"No," Frank reassured her. "It was Gracie. She totally let me have it. I mean...wow. That is one kid you don't want to get on the bad side of. She really fits that stereotype, you know, with the red hair and the temper and all? She tore my butt up one side and down the other. Told me I didn't deserve to be on the same planet with you. She said if you died it would be my fault and she didn't see how I could live with myself. I deserved to be strung up in the town square and fed to the buzzards. And on and on like that. I mean...wow. I thought she was gonna cripple my other leg too."

_A girl after my own heart,_ Jo almost said. But she merely mouthed the words, then backed out of the room and closed the door, although she might have pressed her ear to it if she had not seen her mother frowning and shaking her head at her.

"I wish I'd got to see Frank and Walt sky-writing my name over the hospital that day," Beth was saying now. "For real, I mean, and not just on Youtube. I know Frank's glad he got to grow his hair back. I _know_ how it feels not to have any."

Jo longed to ask her what had gone through her mind the day before her operation, knowing she might not survive it. But she could not quite bring herself to ask that just yet, and she doubted she ever would. Maybe Beth would tell, in her own time.

As Jo came home from school with Meg, she noted some suspicious activity at the house, some sort of secrecy. She glanced at Meg, who just smiled, and Jo suspected what was afoot. She broke into a run, Meg following close behind her, and the door burst open and Theo stood there in all his uniformed glory, his arms open wide.

"Happy birthday, Ratatouille!" he said using his current pet name for her and planting a smacking kiss on her cheek. "How does it feel to be legal now?"

John Brooke came right behind him, smiling softly. Meg screamed.

His mother had lost her battle with cancer a week after Beth won hers, and he had accepted a teaching job at a high school about sixty miles away. He came down every other weekend, and stayed at the Laurences'. Meg's father had stated that they might not become engaged until Meg had graduated high school, and John was cool with that. He had told Meg he would not mind her dating other boys; he did not expect her to sit around twiddling her thumbs and watching TV on Saturday nights. She sometimes went out on "friend dates", but they were rarely with the same boy. Those boys just couldn't be content with mere friendship, it seemed.

A huge cake with sixteen candles burning on it adorned the dining-room table, the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JO!" hanging from a tinsely red and blue and gold string across the doorway in glittery letters. Balloons everywhere, and gaily wrapped packages on the table along with those corny little party favors used for kids' birthdays and colorful paper dishes at each place. People started coming out of the woodwork: Meg's and Jo's friends from school, and some of the younger cast members from _Les Mis_, and church members, and yes, there was good ol' Uncle Charles and Aunt Carol, along with cousin Flo (_if he says "Sweet sixteen and never been kissed", like he said to Meg last year, I'll puke, _thought Jo) and Aunt Patty and Holden and Neville, and Mrs. Mathers along with her daughter Alice and her maid Beulah, and Beth's and Amy's friends also. After Beth's operation, the girls in their Sunday-school class had rallied around, having decided Amy was not so dangerous after all, and so she was no longer a social outcast. She was even a bit of a celebrity among them now, and she even claimed that she had deserved their scorn because she had been "so stuck-up".

The twins Fred and Frank Vaughn emerged from the cellar, along with Gracie and their cousin Walt the pilot. At this rate, Jo thought, they were going to have to get a bigger house.

"Why do I get the feeling there's more going on than just a birthday party?" she said softly to Theo, over the clamor. "There's too many people here, and they all seem too dang happy somehow. Any more and it's going to look like the stateroom in _A Night at the Opera_. What's really going on?"

"Beats me, dudette," Theo said with a shrug that just looked a little too...elaborate, or something. "Maybe a male stripper is going to jump out of the cake and do his thing on the tabletop, or something?"

"Just what I've always wanted for my birthday, a midget stripper," Jo said. "The cake's big, but it's not _that_ big."

"Well, maybe I could do the honors," Theo offered. "This uniform shouldn't be too hard to take off. I've had plenty of practice at it, although I don't normally do it on a tabletop."

Jo burst into a howl of laughter at which he pretended to take offense. And then she gave him a smacking kiss in front of everybody, which put a big honking grin on his face.

And after they had sung the "Happy Birthday" song, after which Jo asked for the umptieth time who Minnie Moore was, the front door opened, the laughter halted and the room was suddenly hushed into a deafening silence...

...broken by piercing shrieks from Jo and Meg...

...which were followed up by cries from Beth and Amy as well.

"_DAD!_"

The lanky, balding, uniformed and bespectacled man strode forth from the front door, his wife coming up behind him so radiantly that he was positively backlit, until his daughters all threw themselves in a body at him. Amy dove for his ankles, Jo for his left side and Meg for his right, and Beth for his middle. They all would probably have knocked him over backwards, but for their mother standing behind him.

Then amid all the clamor there was a loud knock at the door, and Mrs. March turned to opened it and there stood Great-aunt Martha, all three hundred and some-odd pounds of her, resplendent in grey velvet and fur and black enamel cane, along with her grim-faced nurse, Mrs. Korczak, holding her wheelchair although Aunt Martha was standing, and her stiff-backed driver, Faulks. She looked her nephew over, as he grinned widely down at her, and then she gave a little sniff.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Robert March," she said, and he laughed and threw his arms all around her. Jo purely expected him to lift her up off her feet and spin her around, like he used to do with his wife and daughters. He was a huggy man, and it used to embarrass Jo half to death, but now she would not have been fazed in the least if he had put the lampshade on his head and danced a fandango on a high stool.

Amy brought the beanbag chairs from her room in an attempt to accommodate all the guests, and there still weren't enough seats, so some had to sit on the floor, while Mrs. March and Hannah stayed on their feet. Mr. March sat on the sofa with Beth and Amy both in his lap- a year ago Amy would never have sat in his lap in front of so many people-with Meg and Jo on either side of him. He had brought gifts for all his family members, including a small digital camera for Amy, and nothing could have pleased her more. She went about snapping pictures of everyone, crying, "Say cheese!" and clicking before they even had a chance to do so. Mickey Prescott popped balloons behind people's backs just to see them jump, until his mom smacked his hiney right in front of the whole crowd. When Uncle Charles delivered the much-dreaded line, Jo just gave him an "Oooo baby, if you only knew" look, tossing a naughty glance and wink at Theo. Uncle Charles could only raise his eyebrows and look around him, while Theo doubled over with suppressed laughter.

Finally it was time for Jo to open her presents. Many of them turned out to be things to wear, and she was rather happy about that. She got a gorgeous bloodstone ring set in gold from Theo, a set of books by William Faulkner from Aunt Patty, several DVDs and CDs, and a book on screenwriting from Mrs. Mathers. One of the CD's was an album of Beth's piano pieces, on which she had been working for almost two months, unknown to Jo, with a cover designed by Amy.

_So she's over him,_ thought Jo. _Hmmm. That's good...I guess._

She grinned at her baby sister, who smiled back and looked away. Jo wondered if she were up to something, but soon dismissed the thought.

And thanks to her mother, she was now the proud owner of a cell phone. Meg told her she would soon be wondering how she had ever gotten along without it.

"Well," Mr. Laurence said finally, when the excitement had died down a bit, "that takes care of the birthday girl. But wait...there's another surprise for someone else here. Where's that incorrigible grandson of mine?"

Theo lifted his head where he had been sitting at the piano, very near Jo, plinking out a softly jazzy version of "You're Sixteen, You're Beautiful, and You're Mine." Modestly he lifted a hand.

"Well, you'd better come with me, cadet," Mr. Laurence said. The older man led the boy out the front door, Jo soon following behind, her sisters after her, then the twins and Gracie, and all the other young people. Mr. Laurence went around the back of the house to the garage, where Jeeves/Douglas stood looking rather mysterious. From within the garage, a soft sound issued.

It was most definitely a whicker. Theo turned slightly pale.

"It hasn't been quite a year yet, I know," Mr. Laurence said, "but you've comported yourself so much better than I ever expected in this past year, Theodore. Well, of course there _was_ that little incident at the school last month, but considering how you were just getting started there... And you managed to get through the summer without pulling any truly outrageous shenanigans, at least none that reached my ears, and you've proved yourself a model 'brother' to these four wonderful little women. And so, as I promised you...here you are." He had to pause after that and clear his throat rather loudly.

Jo had never thought she would see the day when Theo would be smitten utterly speechless.

The boy simply stood there as Jeeves led the magnificent black horse with a white blaze down his muzzle from the garage, and everyone else watched as Theo cried hoarsely, "Rambo!" and ran to the beast and flung his arms about its neck. A lump gathered in Jo's throat as she watched until she feared she would burst out bawling in front of everyone in sight.

Her father came up behind her and put an arm about her shoulders, laying her new heavy striped sweater across them, saying, "Getting a bit chilly, isn't it, wild girl?"

All she could do was lean against him without a word, there in the flaming glory of the October afternoon.

"So which of our resolutions did we keep?" Mr. March asked late in the twilight after the guests had all gone. Once more he sat on the sofa surrounded by his daughters, while his wife and Hannah sat in the chairs across from him, and a fragrant wood fire burned on the hearth.

"It's not New Years yet, Daddy," Amy pointed out where she sat snuggled against his left side, Beth at his right. "It's not even _Halloween_ for another week."

"Yeah, the fat lady ain't sung yet," Jo agreed. "We've still got two more months to screw it all up."

"I've kept none of mine really," Meg said. "I was supposed to work on not being vain, and instead, I think I actually got vainer. But still..."

"But still, you've done things no one else was brave enough to do," said her mother. "A pretty lampshade is a useless ornament without the light from within, and yours shines like a bright star, Meghan."

"Amen to that," Hannah said. "She's an inspiration to us all, that's what she is."

"Careful, you guys," Jo said with a wink at her blushing older sister. "I'm the one who has to share a room with her now, ya know."

The others laughed. Meg just smiled.

"I'm not so much afraid of people as I used to be," Beth spoke up, "now that I know how much everyone really cares about me. I don't think I've done much to deserve it, but they do. I'd even go back to school, except it's so nice to have Hannah teach me here at home. Still, it's great not to have to feel like I have to _hide_ from everybody like a little old rabbit or something."

"Beth is much too modest," her mother said, "although I think I prefer her that way. She has shown a courage and patience that fairly takes my breath away. No one would have blamed her much for complaining more than she did, but she rarely did, and kept a hopeful spirit the whole time she was ill. I would never have supposed it, and would have much rather she had not been put to the test as she was. But she was, and she passed it with her colors flying in the wind."

"Amen to that," Jo said before Hannah could. Mr. March nodded, blinking hard behind his glasses.

"I can add no more to that," he said passing his hand over Beth's downy curls.

"I think I'm not near as selfish as I used to be," Amy said. "I don't see how anybody used to stand me. I was the most horrible person on the face of the earth. Well, except for Osama bin Ladin, I guess. But I'm much better now, I think... Shut up, Jo," she said as she saw her sister looking at her with a bit of a smirk. Everyone laughed.

"I think you're right," Mr. March said, "although I would hardly call you the most horrible person on the face of the earth by a long shot, little lady. I saw how you offered your beanbag chair to Mrs. Mathers, even if she wasn't, er, quite able to manage it, and you waited on Aunt Martha without even being told. She fairly fell in love with you. Your manners and charm have vastly improved, along with your drawing skills. You make your daddy proud."

"Ah, shucks," Amy said in imitation of Jo, flipping her hand at her father. That provoked louder laughter from all. "I think I owe it all to Hannah really," she said. Hannah looked at her with widened eyes. "She's got the patience of a saint."

"Can't argue with that," Mr. March said with a wink at Hannah. The girls laughed.

"I guess I didn't do as good as everybody else," Jo said. "But dang, if you only knew about all the stuff I _felt _like doing and didn't, you have to give me _some_ credit. Geez."

More laughter. She thought of mentioning that she had survived her sojourn into the dark side, until she realized she actually knew jack about the dark side. Her father had surely encountered more of the dark side in one hour than she had the entire year. How could he possibly be interested in their silly little doings? Surely it was as if he were tuning in to an episode of _Little House on the Prairie_ after a prolonged viewing of _Apocalypse Now_. And yet, wasn't that why he had gone in the first place? So they could continue to live their little lives without danger of invasion. Or so she had been told.

"Maybe change came so gradually, you can't see it as I can," he said. "I see a young woman before me with many of her rough edges smoothed out. She may not be a fully-cut gem yet, but gem she most certainly is, acquiring an admirable polish. She shows far more dignity and maturity than the Jo I left behind last year, more responsibility, more respect, more..."

"Dang it all, Dad," groaned Jo, "you're gonna make me sound like ten kinds of boring."

Still more laughter, although some of it was sympathetic.

"I don't think that's even possible," her dad said.

"And let's not forget how she gave the remainder of her prize money to the hospital," her mother said, "after buying only a few school clothes for herself. Well over eight hundred dollars, if I'm not mistaken. I rather wish she had come to me about it first, but still, such generosity in a daughter of mine makes me prouder than I could ever tell you."

"It wasn't generosity," Jo said, her cheeks flaming hot now. "It was gratitude. They saved Bethy, so I figured it was the least I could do, even if it was mere pocket change compared to some of the donations they get."

She had to blink back a few tears herself. Crap.

"I also notice she doesn't slap herself on the thigh now when she laughs," Mr. March said, more to make Jo smile than anything else. She made a face at him, then laughed, slapping his thigh instead. "Seriously though, Jo, I think you have done your part to hold this family together in my absence with admirable patience, humor, and fortitude. And I'm told you brought out the best in a certain young man, whom I like very much, by the way."

"I'd say his granddad was mostly responsible for that," Jo said. "And probably Mr. Brooke-John-as well. Not to mention Rambo the horse. The most I did was make minding his p's and q's a little more fun for him. I can do that much, at least."

"Well, I think you underestimate the value of that, my girl," her dad said. "Your sense of humor and fun is a transforming element, the sugar in the oatmeal, the spice that makes duty and work and learning palatable, instead of dry and insipid, or bitter and foul. I can't begin to imagine how our men and women in Afghanistan would have gotten through what they did without it. War is deadly serious business, but anything that illuminates that darkness even a little is as a single brilliant star in a black night. I can tell you that some of your letters made not only me laugh, but certain of those I read them to. I didn't tell you this before because I was afraid you wouldn't write me any more, if you knew I was reading your letters aloud. However, I can truthfully tell you that those young men and women greatly looked forward to those letters, Jo."

Jo had no words for that.

Still, she did manage to hid her face behind a cushion when Amy whipped out her new camera.

"And they liked the DVD of _Les Mis_ too, didn't they, Robert?" Mrs. March said with an arch smile.

"Daddy, you _didn't!_" Meg wailed. "The sound on that thing was _atrocious_. The equipment Mr. Luckett's father used was from the year one. I can't look anyone in the eye now!"

"Sounded wonderful to me," her father said smiling fondly. The others laughed, more at Meg's tragic expression than anything else.

John and Theo came back over a little later, and they sat on the sofa with Meg and Jo between them, while Colonel and Mrs. March squeezed together into the big recliner, all listening to Col. March tell alternately touching and amusing stories about his trip home. Beth and Amy sat in their beanbag chairs playing with Mimi, while Hannah sat in the other chair, looking into the fire without speaking, perhaps thinking of her son. When Beth noticed her looking sad, she scooted over and laid her head against Hannah's knee. Amy reached for her camera, then remembered she had left it on the kitchen table. However, she found she was quite comfortable where she was, so she lay back and let Mimi climb onto her stomach and make biscuits against her fuzzy sweater, purring and looking fondly into Amy's face with her green-gold eyes, while Amy told her how adorable she was and caressed her gingery fur.

And thus they all sat together as a gust of autumn wind swept through the leaves outside, and an owl hooted softly in the oak tree in the front yard.

***FINIS***

A/N: I've ended the story where Alcott left off with Part I. Whether or not there will be a sequel or Part II, remains to be seen. It all depends on whether or not the Muse is amenable to it.:) To all who commented, many thanks; your feedback is much appreciated! If I didn't answer it's because you didn't sign in to review. I thank you also. Your reviews mean a lot to me.


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